Stockholm Syndrome
by juno malabre
Summary: When Harry becomes Voldemort's prisoner, there is no one there to save him. A story about a captive and a captor. NO SLASH. [Complete]
1. Anger and Owls

Stockholm Syndrome

By Juno Malabre

5/1/05

The bright day seemed to be deliberately tormenting Harry. What right did the weather have to be happy when he was burning up with anger within. He sighed in resignation as it dawned on him that he always seemed to be angry nowadays. Harry had never realised there were so many different _types_ of anger. A dull, constant resentment which lay like a lead weight in his stomach was a feeling he had felt since…well, since the end of fourth year, after the death of Cedric Diggory. Directed towards Voldemort, it was something he had grown so used to that it had almost become a part of him. It _had_ become a part of him.

'And likely to stay as long as Voldemort does.' thought Harry, glaring out the window at a bird who dared to fly past singing. He itched to cast a silencing spell upon it, but stayed his hand, as he didn't think his uncle would drive him to the ministry for yet another hearing about his use of magic outside school. Now his anger at the Ministry of Magic, that was a different story. It simmered, waiting for provocation, usually from the incompetence of Fudge to make him boil over. But that was rare, especially now with the Minister actually doing something about the Death Eaters currently running amok around the place. Harry had read of more attacks this week alone in the Daily Prophet than the rest of the summer put together, but at least they weren't being hushed up. He supposed it would have been difficult to pass a hundred Dark Marks in two days off as 'high spirits among the younger generation.'

But it was anger at himself that ate into Harry the most, rising in uncontrollable surges of bile, at the least expected moments. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was the arc Sirius' body made before it plunged through that curtain into the whispering depths beyond.

_It was your fault. It was your fault. It was your fault._ A nasty little voice reminded him. And all Harry could do was agree. If he had not rushed off at the first opportunity, trying to play the hero, or had gone to Lupin, or even flown to Grimmauld Place instead of directly to the ministry, Sirius would still be alive.

Harry gave a grimace even as those thoughts ran through his head. 'How cliché to be blaming oneself.' This only led another wave of anger to flow through him. 'Selfish, selfish, selfish!' he thought as he spun round and threw himself onto the narrow bed in the corner of the room. He punched his pillow almost to breaking point, before burying his head in his arms. But the tears that were balancing delicately on his eyelashes refused to fall. He had yet to properly cry over the death of his godfather.

Harry blinked rapidly and scrubbed the dewy drops from his eyes as a snowy figure glided through the window. Hedwig landed next to his bed and held out her claw wearily. She had been taking notes and letters from Harry's friends nearly all summer, and had yet to be sent back with a reply. This latest one came from The Burrow; Harry could tell from the untidy scrawl that Ron had written again. The sixth from him in as many days. He resisted the urge to chuck it straight in the bin and rolled onto his back to read it. It was surprisingly long, usually Ron wrote only a few words, a paragraph at most, but this was a good foot of parchment. "He must have something really consoling to say this time" Harry muttered sardonically.

_Harry,_

_Mum's getting really worried. Well, we all are. You haven't answered anything since we left you at the station, apart from the requisite line to say the Dursley's aren't mistreating you. You should have heard the fuss Mum kicked up the other day. She had one of her scenes about you being alone at this time and stormed straight to Dumbledore. She exactly like Hermione when she gets a bee in her bonnet. You know what I mean? _

_But anyway mate, we're here for you, especially after Sirius…well…you know. Mum's definitely right about that, you'll have to talk about it sometime, and I'm here when you do. Well, I would be if you answered any of your letters. Don't give up now. We all have to get through this together, and we need you with us. You remember what Dumbledore said at the end of fourth year about sticking together?_

'We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.' thought Harry bitterly. 'Fine words are easier said than done.' But he continued reading.

_This is exactly the kind of thing he's talking about. We'd be like flies to You-Know-Who if he decided to attack now! But the Order seem to think he'll lie low for a little bit, especially now people are actually sitting up and taking notice for once in their lives._

_Dad's been so overworked, but good news is he's likely to get a promotion. I told you that in the last note didn't I? But as protecting Muggles is going to be one of the main hassles in this, he's getting shifted up a couple of places. He'll actually be able to arrest people on the spot! Bad news for Malfoy's Dad eh?_

_Sorry, I'm going on a bit. Kind of hard to know what to say to get you to come and stay with us…so looks like we're just going to have to drag you away from those Muggles you love oh so much…_

_Mum spoke to Dumbledore, and he says you can come and stay with us now. Actually he said you've been there long enough for the magic to work, whatever that means but I guess it means the same as you can come and stay with us. We're meeting up with Hermione in Diagon Alley on the 30th July, and Dad says he'll connect you to the Floo again so we can pick you up on the way. Um…he also says can you make sure the fireplace is free this time? _

_Don't do anything stupid in the next few days. See you soon._

_-Ron_

_P.S. Don't spose you've got Pig with you have you? Only he's been gone two weeks, and the last thing I sent him to deliver was a note to you._

Harry couldn't help a smile at the memory of that particular occasion. The tiny bird had collided with the window a few times before finally flying into the room, delivered the scrawled not attached to his leg, and then flown out again…straight into a tree. Harry presumed he was fine as he flew back, albeit crookedly, to The Burrow.

Well, if they were going to physically come and get him he couldn't stop them. And Harry had to admit that he had missed the company. The Dursleys were currently pretending that Harry was not even in the house anymore, although anything he had asked for had been done or bought with such haste that, had his mood been better, he would have laughed. But still, it felt like he had spent the entire summer completely alone. And yet he did not reply to his friends letters. He was almost sure that it wasn't because he wanted to wallow in self pity. It was just…how could they ever know? Once again, he had had to face Voldemort without the support of his friends. So what if one was knocked out by a curse, one had a twisted ankle, one had been made moronic by a flying brain, one had a broken nose and one had been unconscious…

'Selfish, selfish, selfish!' the words once again rang through Harry's head. His friends had had their own things to deal with. And they were all there because they had followed him, to support him, he couldn't deny that. He had led them all nearly to death, and here he was, sulking about how he had had to face Voldemort alone. Well that was his duty wasn't it? According to the prophecy, only he could vanquish his enemy.

Harry heaved a sigh and grabbed a quill and a scrap of parchment.

_Ron,_

_Sorry I haven't written. Things to think about you know? Hope you're all ok. Fireplace was never repaired properly after last time, so you can still get through, and I doubt the Dursleys will even notice I'm gone. See you on the 30th, but tell your Mum not to make a fuss of my birthday. I don't really feel like celebrating this year. Haven't seen Pig since he delivered the note. Perhaps he got lost?_

_Harry_

Well, at least they left him a day to pack, not that that would take much time. He had not even bothered to open his school trunk, let alone completely unpack. But no denying the clothes he currently wore needed a wash, they hadn't left his back since the train journey home. After _three_ weeks even Harry couldn't help but notice that they were starting to smell…just a little.

He fixed the note to Hedwig's leg, and she flew off after giving his fingers a gentle nip. He was still amazed that she seemed to know when he was unhappy, and always managed to make him feel just that little bit better.


	2. Flourish and Blotts

The next day saw Harry up early, galvanised out of his lethargic state by the oncoming arrival of the Weasley family. He tidied what little he had removed from his trunk back into its dark recesses, and pulled out a set of robes for when he finally arrived in wizard London, a clean shirt and a clean if worn pair of jeans. 'This year I'll get myself some clothes.' Harry thought to himself. He stuffed the clothes he was currently wearing into a plastic bag which he buried at the bottom of the trunk. Knowing Mrs. Weasley, she'd find it before long and wash them for him. He made a mental note to buy a thank you present whilst he was in town.

It always shocked Harry just how much he accumulated over the school year. Now that the trunk was full he had to sit, and then lie on the lid to get it to close properly. And there were still the corners of an item of clothing poking out. He wished he was old enough to do magic outside of school, then he could just shrink everything, and perhaps it would all fit.

"Could do with a lightening charm too." he grumbled as he lugged the heavy trunk down the stairs. Aunt Petunia came out of the kitchen and watched in horror as it thumped from step to step after the boy, occasionally knocking a lump out of the paintwork on the way down. Her husband followed her out; despite their best efforts to ignore Harry, the noise was hard to put up with.

"Boy!" Vernon Dursley growled, his face turning puce in the obvious effort he was making not to grab Harry and wring his neck. "Just where do you think you are going? If you think-"

"The Weasleys are coming to pick me up shortly. I'll be gone for the rest of the summer. See you next year." Harry blew a mock kiss to Dudley who was trying to see what was going on in the hall, whilst simultaneously watching the T.V. in the kitchen. Dudley, who by some supreme freak of nature was balancing on the back legs of the chair without them breaking under his weight, nearly fell over backwards, and Harry, hiding a laugh, turned into the living room and awaited the arrival of the Weasleys.

He did not have to wait long. His uncle had just come into the room spluttering about the neighbours, wizard transport, weirdos, and, strangely, pigs tails. Harry assumed that the trip to London for the removal of 'Duddykins' tail, was firmly rooted in Vernon's memory, and just had time to recall the event that led to that trip before the first figure tumbled out of the fireplace. Vernon gave a strangled yelp and rushed out of the room far faster than should have been possible for a man of his girth.

Harry grinned at the tall, red headed youth who was currently unfolding himself from the hearth. Ron Weasley was now almost a foot taller than Harry, and still had more to grow if Harry was any judge.

"Hey mate. Was that your uncle there?"

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "Guess I'm not getting a going away party this year either. Any more of you coming?" this was directed to the three redheads who had just fallen out of the chimney. Only Ginny had stayed standing, through much effort.

"Nope that's it. Come on let's go." Harry was surprised to see both Fred and George there. Having left school quite spectacularly last year, he had doubted they would be welcomed back into Mrs. Weasleys arms. Well, there would be time to ask about all that later.

Ron and George man-handled Harry's trunk into the wizard flames that had sprung up courtesy of the Floo network. Fred, with Hedwig's cage (she preferred the old fashioned method of flight to get to places,) disappeared next, then Ginny handed Harry the Floo powder pot.

"We're going to meet Mum and Dad at the Leaky Cauldron. You go first, and…um…Harry?" the dark haired boy was staring into the green flames with trepidation. "You will actually need to take some of the powder and then give it back to me, so I can get there too."

Harry heaved a sigh, grabbed a handful of the powder and threw it into the flames before closing his eyes and stepping into the grate.

"The Leaky Cauldron!"

As he started spinning, he had just enough time to see Ginny's grinning face mouth the words 'Good Luck,' before he was whisked off to the oldest wizard pub in London.

Ginny looked around her and scuffed at the soot around her feet as she waited the requisite time before following Harry back into the chimney. A muffled conversation then a shriek outside the door made her jump and suddenly Petunia burst into the room, stopping still at the sight of the girl with a black streak across her nose, treading black dust into her cream carpet.

"TRESPASSING!" was all Ginny heard as she hastily leapt into the grate and muttered her destination as the flames sprang up around her.

Petunia took another look at the dirt trodden into the carpet before fainting delicately into an armchair.

* * *

Perhaps it was just the lack of contact on his part for the first weeks of the summer, but Harry realised just how grateful he was to Ron and his family for 'rescuing him' as he stepped into the bustling, heaving noise that was the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't have long to realize his love for the wizarding world as, almost immediately, he was surrounded by people patting him on the back, shaking his hand, and in Molly Weasley's case, enveloping him in a bone crushing hug, before she held him at arms length and admonished him for his lack of news.

"We'd heard nothing for _weeks_! You could have been starving and wasting away and none of us would have known! Did it not occur to you how worried we were? I was nearly-"

"Mum."

"-frantic! I owled Dumbledore immediately. I said to him, with all due respects of course, that it is _not_ healthy for a lad of your age to be shut up like that without-"

"_Mum._"

"Shh Ron dear. What was I saying? Oh yes, it is not healthy to be shut up without any friends for the whole summer, and I absolutely begged for him to-"

"MUM!"

"What is it Ron? I am trying to talk to Harry!"

Ron raised his eyebrows at the Boy Who Lived, who had defeated Voldemort five times, and who was currently struggling against Mrs. Weasley's iron grip. "I think Harry wants to eat Mum."

"Oh but of course he does! You're as thin as a rake dear, what could those Muggles have been feeding you for you to get so thin? Now dear, don't just stand there! Go and sit down with the boys and get something to eat. There's a good boy." She gave a final pat to Harry's unruly hair before bustling over to where her husband was sitting, watching the goings on with a faintly amused expression.

Harry just had to laugh. Anyone would think he's been starved for thirteen years in Azkaban like…he stopped that train of thought quickly, but not quickly enough for Ron who saw the dark expression flick across Harry's features.

"Come on," he said quickly, not wanting his friend to descend into one of his gloomy, reflective moods. "Let's go get something to eat."

Harry shot a smile of thanks to Ron and they headed towards the table, which already had four of the seven Weasley children seated around it. So not only are the twins in town, Harry mused, but Charlie's here too.

"Ron how come the twins are around? I would have thought your Mum would have sent them packing after what happened with Umbridge." Harry questioned as they sat down.

Ron unsuccessfully tried to hide a grimace at the thought of that toad of a woman. "Actually that's exactly why they haven't been thrown out on their ears. Mum hates the woman, she's heard the rumours from Dad you know, and almost, almost mind you, seemed pleased with them! Also I don't think she wants to lose any more of our family after what happened with Percy, that bastard." Ron didn't even attempt to hide his distaste at that.

"Still not talking to you?"

"Don't make us laugh Harry!" Fred called out, joining in the conversation from the other end of the table. "He's so pis…"he caught the glare that Mrs. Weasley shot at him from across the room. She had ears like a bat for any kind of foul language from her children. "Um…I mean…he's so annoyed that the rumours were in fact true, and that you're not a raving crackpot that he's transferred in a huff to America."

George wasted no time getting involved. "Actually we think the reason he's been sent off so far is that old Fudge has finally realised how utterly boring he is!" he said in a mock whisper. Everyone laughed, and then settled back to eat as their food arrived. Harry took a swig of the butterbeer that someone had ordered for the table, and felt the warmth spread through him, filling him with an irresistible sense of well-being and light-heartedness that he had not felt in almost two years...

* * *

After the bill had been settled by various members of the family, they headed out into the quiet street. Harry was astounded. He had never know Diagon Alley to be so deserted, there were barely twenty people, not including the Weasley horde, to be counted in the whole street.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered to Charlie, with whom, moments before, he had been having an animated discussion about the Chudley Cannons versus the Pride of Portree and who was doing better this season. But now there was an eerie hush, and no one seemed willing to speak above a whisper.

"No one really wants to go out since the newspapers have been saying You-Know-Who is back. Hardly surprising really. This street is probably the biggest target." Charlie answered in an undertone.

Despite the lack of people, everywhere seemed to be open, and it was certainly easier to find Hermione among the shelves in Flourish and Blotts.

"Harry!" She squealed when the group entered, and pulled him into a hug that rivalled Mrs. Weasley's.

"When you didn't reply to any of our letters I thought-"

"Been there, done that with Mum. And for everyone's sake, let Harry go before he has to regrow some ribs!" Ron forcibly pried Hermione's hands from around Harry's waist and led her back a few paces. "Lets get all the school stuff sorted, and then we can do some…" Here he winked very pointedly at Hermione, "…Shopping for a certain date in the near future."

She rolled her eyes at him and opened her mouth to tell him to stop being so blindingly obvious, but Harry gave a chuckle and stepped in.

"Oh don't worry I can't hear a thing and haven't a clue what you are talking about. I'll just wander over to these interesting books over here shall I?" However, he had not walked two steps before the two behind him dissolved into fits of laughter.

"Well…if that's what you…call read…reading material…" Hermione managed to gasp out.

"Whatever floats your boat, mate!" Ron was only marginally more coherent.

Harry slowly looked up at the sign above the bookshelves.

**Adult reading: Mixed Species, Hetro/Homosexual, Non-Humanoid, House Elves, Nurses & Mediwizards, Fetish, Magazines & Aids.**

**Please ask a Flourish & Blotts assistant for help.**

"Oh grow up you two!" he said indignantly. But he had to admit, it was funny, especially as his relationships had amassed to all of one, lasting barely two weeks. And what the hell was mixed species?


	3. The Captive and the Captor

They were still laughing as they trooped round the rest of the shop collecting their books for school. Molly Weasley had managed to get the book lists in advance for their advanced subjects, which was why Harry was now consulting his closely, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"Standard Book of Spells Grade 6, Advanced Transfiguration and Its Uses by Stalius Turning, Potions For NEWTs by…Hermione, I can't even read that one."

"Pirelilolli Pollus. He's an Italian potions master of the highest degree. Snape studied with him a while."

Both Ron and Harry looked at her aghast. It always surprised them whenever Hermione imparted such information, even though she had done similar for the last six years, but this was the first time that she had revealed something about a teacher's private life. And this was _Snape's _private life. Rolling her eyes for possibly the fourth or fifth time at their expressions she merely pointed to an updated copy of Hogwarts: A History that was being displayed on a table near the trio. Obviously feeling that she had made her point she wondered off to look at Charms for the Charmed: Spells for Competent Modern Witches.

"You know, I think she learns those books off by heart." said Harry, staring open-mouthed after their friend.

"You think?" joked Ron, although he still looked slightly bemused. "That girl's a walking encyclopaedia!"

Harry shook his head and went back to his list, checking the books that he was already carrying.

"Well, I've got Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence covered, though this lot weighs a tonne! I just need Herbology now." he muttered, peering at the parchment in his hands then up at the signs pointing to different parts of the shop.

"I still don't get why you're even taking Herbology, I thought it was only four that you needed to be an Auror?" Ron was wrestling a large leather bound book down from the top shelf. He had been more inclined to leave his options open, not knowing what he wanted to do, and was taking the same subjects as Harry, but taking Astronomy instead of Herbology.

"Well, McGonagall reckoned that it wouldn't hurt to show I had a bit of diversity. Or something like that. I've got to have five to even be considered for training, and it's definitely better than taking divination." Harry walked absentmindedly to the other wall and began looking through some Quidditch books. If he could only find out where to try out for teams…Harry was snapped out of his fantasy about being England's captain and seeker by Ron falling off the stepladder he was using to reach the top shelf. He groaned, nursing his shoulder, on which he'd fallen heavily, before sending an appealing look up at Harry.

"Hermione," Harry shouted over to her, "I think Ron's trying to tell us that it's time for a break.

* * *

The trio left the shop with their purchases and meandered up the empty street, talking quietly about the last few years. Harry had thought during the few weeks spent at his aunt and uncle's house, that talking about any of the events from last year would have been painful beyond belief, but now that they were actually discussing…things…the pain seemed to be less acute. To his surprise he found he started telling them about the thoughts he had been having about Sirius. 

"At the end of last term Luna told me that the dead are just out of sight." Harry recalled.

"Told you she was nuts" Ron started to say before he was cut off but a glare and a "Shh Ron!" from Hermione. She looked at Harry again.

"Go on. Do you think she's right?"

Harry sighed.

"I don't know. But it's easy to imagine that he may be really near. It's led to weird dreams though. I keep seeing him pulling back that veil, and not being able to get out of the room, or, sometimes, him with my mum and dad. They're all together now, at least." They had stopped in front of a window displaying many different kinds of magical mirrors. Harry stared without seeing at his reflection in the foe glass as his two friends watched him anxiously.

"But I don't…" he started to say, turning back to them, when a movement in the mirror caught his attention. Someone was standing behind them with their wand raised, the whites of their eyes visible…

"DUCK!" screamed Harry.

Both Ron and Hermione dropped to the ground, as a violet spell blazed a trail where their heads had been seconds before. They wriggled into the shop and looked around for Harry. He was still outside, throwing up an admirable blocking spell whilst trying to gain access to the door.

Hermione hid her eyes, but Ron watched in horror as Harry fumbled with the doorknob, dropping the spell momentarily. A blinding flash of white obscured his vision for a minute or more, but when the purple dots cleared from in front of his eyes he saw a figure in Death Eater robes picking up his fallen friend.

Hermione opened her eyes to Ron's gasp and let out a startled cry. Harry's skin seemed to be splitting open, the flesh cracking up like dry earth. Blood welled up and flowed out of the horrendous cuts that criss-crossed his body. Harry looked like broken clay, as if all that was holding him together was his own blood, and even that was leaving his body rapidly. His head lolled in the stranger's arms, and Hermione and Ron could only be minutely thankful that he was not conscious to witness what the spell was doing to him.

The pair could not move, could not help their friend as he was lifted up by the figure, and watched in shock as the Death Eater disapparated with a sound like a whip crack.

Harry was a prisoner.

* * *

Harry awoke to pain searing through every inch of his body. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his scar appeared to be splitting his head open. A tiny part of his brain which was not in shock about the amount of pain briefly registered that Voldemort must be incredibly happy. Harry didn't even have time to open his eyes before he sank back into unconsciousness.

* * *

The next time Harry awoke, he realised there was someone else in the room, or at least in the vicinity. He couldn't remember where he was. Suddenly his head was forced back and a hand held his nose, making him gasp for air as a foul tasting liquid was forced down his throat. The other person backed off, and Harry vaguely heard a door close, signalling the someone's exit. The pain began to recede from his flesh, and this time Harry opened his eyes. 

The room, although it was hardly big enough to merit the name, consisted of a hard, dark earth floor, hard, dark stone walls, a black ceiling, and a bed, which Harry was lying on and seemed to be made out of concrete.

Harry tried to make sense of what had happened, and thought back to when he was last conscious. Weird images kept repeating themselves in his head: mirrors chasing him, coloured streaks followed by hooded figures, and red channels, out of which thick liquid dripped.

Harry shut his eyes. It was too much, and his body, now free of pain, was screaming at him to sleep. He gave in to its wishes and sank back onto a pillow, which he could have sworn before he drifted off to sleep, was made of broken bricks.

* * *

He sat up quite suddenly as light flooded into his room. He had been having a dream…that was all. He kept this thought in his head as he slowly opened his eyes, and the hope which had momentarily been with him, fled away. Sunlight streamed in through a small barred window near the ceiling, but otherwise the room was just as dark as when he had last awoken. He dragged himself off the bed, which he saw now had indeed been made of stone, with a thin mattress on top. How had he got here? Harry thought anxiously back to when they were in Diagon Alley, and suddenly it fell into place. There had been a death eater, who had attacked them-'Where's Hermione and Ron?'- in front of a shop. He had been hit with…something. When trying to get into the shop? Yes that sounded right. And the pain…now it was coming back to him, he remembered the intense pain, both in his body and his scar. So Voldemort had at least planned this, if not carried it out. And he was now a captive of… 

"Shit."

Harry was a captive of Voldemort. That's why he had been so happy, he'd captured Harry.

"How could I have been so stupid?" Harry almost shouted as he punched the wall. His wand was gone, and there was no escape. And what had happened to his friends? Harry felt the familiar anger tinged with panic surge up within him. Had he led them into danger again? Were they dead?

Harry started pounding on the door, screaming for someone to come and let him out. He was fifteen, in the clutches of the evilest wizard in the world and terrified. There was no one to help him this time. No Sirius to come to his rescue. No Sirius. No Sirius… Harry slid into a crumpled heap and finally sobbed for his dead godfather, who had died to save him, just like his parents, and now it was all in vain. Once the dam had broken, there was no stopping the tears and Harry sat and cried for what felt like an unbearable length of time.

Suddenly the door swung open and Harry jumped to his feet. A stocky, middle-aged man who looked familiar nonetheless was framed in the doorway. Harry realised why he looked familiar. It was Goyle's father, it had to be. They both looked like less intelligent trolls.

"His Lordship requests you presence to celebrate your birthday." Goyle senior sneered, or at least tried to. He still sounded as if he was reading the words very slowly off a piece of paper. But none of this imposed itself on Harry. All he could think was that he was sixteen, and Voldemort was going to kill him today. It was his birthday and he was going to die.

With no wand all Harry could do was follow the hulking man through the winding corridors, which sloped ever upwards. No stairs for someone whose familiar was the largest snake ever born. Finally, walking through such a small door that even Harry had to bend double, they emerged into a huge hall, larger than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Harry knew who would be in this room, even without the pain on his forehead that seemed to bore deep into his skull, and as they emerged Harry saw him. His enemy, his captor, his Lord.

'Where did that come from?' Harry thought quickly to himself. 'My _Lord? _Is he in here? Would I even be able to tell? I will never call him that!' And finishing his internal argument, Harry strode up the length of the hall and looked Voldemort straight in his slitted red eyes.

"Harry Potter. How kind of you to grace me with your company on your birthday." the dark Lord's tone held amusement and disgust, and something which Harry didn't quite recognise. Not that he was able to concentrate on the meaning of those words, with his scar threatening to burst, or so it seemed.

"I didn't exactly have a choice." Was all he could manage.

"Everyone has a choice. Right now you could choose to be civil to your captor, or you could choose to die." Goyle Senior straightened up. "I'm sure it is not difficult to choose the right one."

Harry resisted the urge to spit at Voldemort's feet. He had to keep him talking. The longer Voldemort spoke, the more chance Harry had of finding a way to escape.

"Why am I here?" Harry snarled.

"Firstly, you will show me, as your better, respect, and call me sir." Harry looked at him shocked. He sounded exactly like Snape. "And as to why you are here, I wanted to celebrate your birthday. Or should I say our birthday? It is quite surprising just how much we have in common is it not?"

This was news. Harry was growing uncomfortable under the red gaze of the dark Lord. And it was…odd that they had just so much in common, the wands, the parseltongue, the way they were brought up, the fact they were orphans, and now this. Harry forced himself to maintain the locked gaze.

Voldemort gave a nasty half smile as he watched the boy struggle with himself. He would not need to involve anyone else once he had the Boy-Who-Lived with him. It would be like two halves joined, and the joining would be formidable. He signalled to the man standing just behind Harry to take him away.

"You will join me at seven for you're…ah…party." he sneered. "Of course, you can choose not to come." Voldemort's laugh was worse than his stare. Far worse.

Harry refused to look back as he was led back through the small door in the wall, but could feel the piercing red eyes on the back of his neck the whole of the way.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers (allfive of you grin)**

**Fippets and Solo23: yes, Pig's disappearence does play a very small part later on.I just thought Ron may have noticed if his bird had suddenlyvanished. and Pig is one of my favorite characters...he had to come in somewhere:)**

**kiki, Circe and chozen 1, glad you like it. theres hopefully lots more to come, though suggestions are always welcome...:)**


	4. Happy Birthday

Harry sat in his cell. He could no longer think of it as a room. Not with its bare stone walls and hard bed.

"If I had my wand I could make it look a little less harsh at least." he mused. A frown creased his face as he mentally shook himself for even considering that he would be staying there any length of time. Once he got into _that_ mindset, there would be no escaping. He touched one of the rapidly healing cracks that covered his body, amazed at how quickly they were disappearing. Judging by the rate they were healing, he would have nothing to show for that particular spell by the time he went to meet Voldemort again. He supposed the spell had been used as an effective knockout in order to bring him here without him resisting. The very thought of how this had been carried out made Harry shiver. There was something more to this than met the eye.

So he was Voldemort's prisoner. And he was expected to go to this party this evening, and whatever that would entail. Harry realised as he sat there that the terror of being a captive he had felt before was slowly dwindling away to nothing. Just like his anger. It was pointless to be angry at something you couldn't't fight, especially when you were their…_guest._ Harry glanced at his watch. Only twenty minutes left before this party.

He thought back to what Voldemort had told him. They shared the same birthday. This had gone beyond coincidental similarities, or what Harry thought of as Scar Connections. It was almost as if Harry was a smaller copy of Voldemort. Harry recoiled from that thought as if it would bite him.

"I'm not a copy! I'm good…I'm in Gryffindor!" Harry shouted fiercely, refusing to believe that they were the same. In the distance he could hear a cold high laugh-or was it in his head?- and the hoots and caws of carrion birds. Harry rubbed his forehead agitatedly, not knowing whether Voldemort was in his head and reading his thoughts, or even placing the thoughts in his head. How could he know what was him?

'Think. Think back to Snape. Build a mental wall!' he tried to clear his mind and wrap up his thoughts as he had been told to do in Occulmency, before Snape had thrown him out, but it was no use. If anything, his head seemed to fill with more thoughts, each more worried than the last. If this was Voldemort's doing, and it was his intention to drive him mad, he was going about it very well. Within the last five minutes, Harry had been reduced to a heap on the floor, tearing at his head; unsure which thoughts were his own.

* * *

Had Goyle been more aware when he had come into the room, he would have perhaps felt pity for the adolescent who was curled up in the farthest corner shaking. Or perhaps not. He hauled Harry to his feet and pushed him out of the room grinning stupidly. Standing in the tunnel outside his cell, Harry managed to pull himself together. Banishing all paranoid thoughts from his mind, he straightened up, determined not to show a weak front to the Dark Lord. 

Once again they walked through the twisting corridors and emerged into the huge hall. However, this time there was not just Voldemort, but a ring of hooded men, Death Eaters, waiting his arrival. So they had all escaped. Harry gulped in air as his lungs seemed to constrict once more in fear.

'I'm going to die.' He thought. But with that thought he realised he felt very little. As if all his anxiety had fled at his acceptance of the idea.

He was pushed into the ring of Death Eaters roughly by Goyle, who then went to take his place in the circle. Two other taller, more intelligent looking Death Eaters took up station either side of Harry, and Voldemort entered the circle to stand opposite him. Harry had a feeling that this was more a ritual than he had first believed, and a ritual which had been performed many times at that. He couldn't't stop a shudder escape him. Although his mind was not, his body was still in terror's grip.

Suddenly a luminous green fire sprung up between Harry and Voldemort, and an evil smile spread across the latter's face.

"Happy Birthday Harry. We have a present for you." The tall figure said, with a hint of anticipation in his voice. "And now we will see what our precious Golden Boy is made of."

His cryptic joke was nontheless rewarded with sycophantic laughter from his cloaked followers. They all seemed to know what was going on, even if Harry did not. He expected nothing less.Voldemort merely looked at Harry with the same unfathomable expression he had worn earlier until the laughter subsided. Then the man, with his snake-like eyes, took one pace closer to the fire, and motioned the boy to do the same. Harry could not refuse with the two Death Eaters, one of whom he was sure was Lucius Malfoy, standing right behind him.

Harry could only watch as Voldemort withdrew a long shaft of iron from a holder which had appeared with the fire. As Voldemort thrust it into the emerald flames, Harry's insides ran cold. It was a branding iron, and he was going to be branded. It came to Harry in a flash why he was here. He was going to receive the Dark Mark. As if reading his mind, the two Death Eaters on either side of him grabbed hold of his arms, and Harry struggle against their grasp was futile. The left sleeve of his robes, the same that he had put on for a mere outing to Diagon Alley twenty four hours ago, was roughly pulled up. Harry's scar pulsed immense pain throughout his body as Voldemort took the glowing brand out of the fire, and with a malicious smile, plunged it onto the clear pale skin of Harry's forearm. He thought he was going to collapse under the pain from both his arm and his head. The pungent smell of burning human flesh pervaded the air, but none of the Death Eaters who surrounded him moved, or even flinched at the disgusting fumes. Every eye was riveted on the glowing iron and the black colour of the scorched skin that was beginning to surround it.

When Voldemort removed the brand from Harry's arm, the top layer of his skin had melted onto it, and came away. Harry screamed. At that sound Voldemort quickly withdrew his wand, and before the echoes of the scream had receded from the halls, he had cast an incantation over the burnt flesh. If Harry had been able to think coherently, he would have said that the spell made the pain even more acute, but the fire that seamed to be spreading through his body left his mind completely blank. As he fell to the floor, he was vaguely aware of Voldemort speaking.

"You shall return to your cell, and eat what will be brought to you. Then, tomorrow, you will be seen into London, to wherever you choose to stay. You will remember none of this Harry, and you _will_ return here whenever I call you."

* * *

The cake which Molly Weasley had made especially for Harry's birthday sat on the table, untouched. Ron, Hermione, the twins, Charlie and Ginny all sat round the table, while Molly hovered around the sink, desperately waiting for any news from the Ministry.

After the attack, Ron and Hermione had fled through the streets to find Arthur, who immediately went to the Ministry. For the last twenty four hours, a search had swept the country countless times, looking for Harry, using as many spells as possible. But as of yet there was no news. No news of Harry, of Voldemort, and most worryingly, no news of any of the known Death Eaters.

The clock chimed ten, making all in the room jump. Mrs. Weasley tried to rouse everyone out of the state they were in.

"You should all be in bed by now. It's late, and sitting here watching the table will not help Harry…Harry…Oh Harry! They'll never find him! He's lost to us! What will happen to us all?" Charlie stood up and guided his hysterical mother into a chair before waving his wand at the kettle, making it leap up and start to make tea. He sat back down in silence.

They sipped at the hot liquid and watched the minute hand swing round the clock one, twice, three times. No one had said anything after Mrs. Weasley's outburst, but the thought that Harry would never be found hung over all of them like a black cloud. Ron refused to look at anyone else, whilst Hermione sat chewing her bottom lip. Fred was holding Ginny's hand, and both George and Charlie were examining the grain of the tabletop.

Suddenly a loud bang as the front door flew open made everyone leap to their feet. Arthur Weasley staggered into the kitchen carrying what at first appeared to be an armful of rags. He bent over the table as he laid the bundle down gently, and then stood back. A gasp went round the room and Ron and Hermione cried out as they ran to the side of the figure.

Harry Potter was back.

* * *

**A.N.: slight cliffhanger I know, sorry! Although this story _is_ all planned out, I'm writing maybe a couple of chapters at a time in between school work...I'm probably getting more done this way that setting aside specific 'writing times'. Hehe.**

**Anyway, thanks to you lot for reviewing, and I'm glad you're all enjoying it!**

**Kiki: Voldy's just gloating. But I shall try and make him meaner. I think I may have a couple of other 1-to-1s; he's quite a good character to write. :)**

**Fippets: yay! And I will reinstate you as my beta when you decide to get back online, but at the moment, I quite like making you wait for the story ;) the spell was reversed by the potion that he was given in the last chapter, but that's shown working in this one. And will Harry go dark? Now that would be giving away my plot…**


	5. Revelations

The Weasley family was worried.

Harry had been back from Voldemort's clutches for nearly a week, appearing to be as healthy as can be, if a little weak, yet had not left his room since his return. Both Ron and Hermione had tried talking to him, but each time there was either little or no response, other than a grunt as they left the room. They had hoped each time that this would mean he was finally ready to talk, but it was always in vain. In fact, he had said barely a handful of words since he was brought home by Mr. Weasley, and nothing longer than a sentence.

Part of the problem lay in the fact that they did not know what he had been submitted to, and Harry didn't seem to be about to tell anyone. He had been found in a heap in the phone box outside the Ministry by some officials on their night shift, who had immediately alerted the Aurors who had called off the search. And that was all anybody knew; that he had been missing for twenty four hours, and had turned up on the Ministry doorstep seemingly unharmed but semi mute.

Before the week was out Mrs. Weasley had demanded that Dumbledore come to the house.

"I may very well be the last person Harry wants to see after last summer, Molly, but I will talk to the boy. I have some idea as to what Voldemort wanted to do." But there was no twinkle in the old wizard's eye as he ascended the stairs to the room that Harry shared with Ron.

Harry was lying on his bed staring at the Chudley Cannons poster on Ron's ceiling. Dumbledore knew then that nothing was happening in Harry's head. He was a mere shell of his former self. This would take far longer than the Headmaster had anticipated.

"Harry?"

There was no response.

"Harry?" Dumbledore tried again, and this time there was a slight flicker of life in Harry's blank eyes. Dumbledore smoothed down his long beard and conjured a large armchair to sit in.

"I have some theories as to what happened to you, Harry. I will of course need some response from you to discern whether I am correct."

Again an almost imperceptible movement in Harry's eyes.

"Voldemort kidnapped you, or rather, allowed one of his many followers to capture you for him. I presume, from the details your friends gave me after you disappeared, that you were hit with the _Cramoisirus _curse. It induces a rapid version of crimson fever, although unlike its virus counterpart, it can be cured with the right antidote." Dumbledore peered over the top of his glasses at Harry, "May I see your stomach Harry? That is the last place it appears, and the last place it disappears from."

After a minute of silence, in which Dumbledore watched the boy anxiously, Harry moved his head slightly. There was no mistaking the gesture, however; he had nodded. Dumbledore slowly lifted Harry's shirt with his wand and saw what he had expected. Tracing his stomach like fine silver threads were the remaining scars from the spell.

"Your friends said that you looked like a vase which had been dropped. A highly imaginative description I thought at the time, but now I see it must have been true." Dumbledore covered Harry back up. "And so it has begun. I shall be brief then. Voldemort wishes to use you as an enemy against yourself. He does not need to know what the prophecy says, although there is no doubt that he does know it by now, but that does not matter anymore. He will enter your mind, Harry, in order to drive you mad. When I first saw you I thought that he had already achieved it, but of course that would spoil the fun for him."

Harry turned his head towards his teacher and uttered four words.

"What does he want?"

Dumbledore sighed. "He wants you Harry. Or rather, he wants you out of the way. You could be useful to him whilst still alive, but if he has you trapped in your own head, you cannot fight him."

"Help me." Harry croaked.

"And we come to the point of my visit." The Headmaster withdrew a vial from his wizarding hat and tapped it with his wand. "There we are. This will heal the wounds Voldemort has inflicted, and not just the physical ones. After you drink it, rest, that is very important. But after that, you should be up and about and getting into mischief again. I think we should have another little chat after you return to school don't you?" With that Dumbledore turned to leave, the sparkle back in his eyes. He turned again at the door. "I shall ask the delightful Mrs. Weasley to help you with the potion. Keep safe until school Harry." The greatest wizard alive left Harry and slowly walked down the stairs to inform Molly that her surrogate son would be back to almost normal very soon.

* * *

True to Dumbledore's word, Harry was soon up and back in control of his body and mind, although he was still very subdued. He knew very soon he would have to go back and face Voldemort. He also knew something that no one else did. He was branded with the Dark Mark, and it had yet to fade.

On the last day of the summer, the Weasleys hosted Harry's very belated birthday party. The entire Weasley family, minus one member, and the Order of the Phoenix had all turned out to wish Harry a happy birthday, and in a strange way it comforted him. To all these people, he was not just a weapon against Voldemort. He was an actual person, an actual boy whom they cared about very much. He hadn't even thought about Sirius not being there for a full five minutes.

Ron and Hermione noticed the look of sadness grace Harry's features once again, and hurried to cheer him up.

"Have another butterbeer Harry!" said Ron, thrusting a bottle directly under Harry's nose.

"But you had better avoid the food. I think Fred and George have been at them…" Hermione smiled doubtfully. "We can open presents shortly I think. Wait until you see what Ron and I have got you!"

Harry would have had to have been very cold hearted not to laugh at his friends' desperate attempts to cheer him up. He obliged them with a small chuckle before wandering down to the bottom of the dimly lit garden. He stood there in silence, listening to the gnomes rustling in the bushes, and thought about Sirius once again. The laugh like a dog's bark, his lopsided grin, his good advice. Harry realised he no longer felt the hollow sadness when he thought about Sirius now. He had cried for him, albeit in terrible surroundings, but he had let out the worst of the pain.

"He would be so proud of you, you know." Tonks had crept up whilst Harry was deep in thought, and now stood next to him, watching the boy's face carefully.

Harry acknowledged her presence. "I know."

"They all would actually. You've been through a hell of a beating and still come out unscathed." Tonks laughed. "You must be the luckiest boy I know." And with that she sauntered back up the garden, her hair changing to match he violent purple robes.

Harry stood there a while longer. He was lucky. Probably not the luckiest, six run-ins with Voldemort could hardly be called luck, but in terms of friends, and loved ones, he was as lucky as could be.

Shouts of "Presents!" drifted down from the house, and with one last look into the distance over the hedge, he turned towards the warmth of the house, to join the others.

* * *

"How do you know he will come back my Lord?"

Piercing red eyes focused on the bowed shape of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"What I mean is, of course, master, is how can we, I mean you, get him out of the clutches of Dumbledore? Won't he ruin all our…your plans?" Bella stumbled through her question, her fear of her master outweighing the fear of what would happen if their plots were foiled once again.

Voldemort's thin mouth curved into a cold smile.

"What you fail to remember is that the boy cannot resist my call, no matter what Dumbledore does to him. The blind old fool will not be able to see the Dark Mark unless Harry chooses to reveal it to him, which he will not. The boy is far too afraid of becoming evil, and he sees that mark as a sign of evil."

Bellatrix looked uncertainly at her master. As far as she understood his 'plan', it was to get Potter back here, and then send him back out into the world once again. And it made no sense! But the woman was not stupid, and only a fool would have told the Dark Lord that they did not understand his plans. But Voldemort seemed to read her thoughts.

"You see, my dear Bella, each time he comes back here, he will go that little bit further in his mind, and come to rely on me that little bit more. Each time, my power over his will, will grow stronger, until he either goes mad with the pressure, in which case he can then do absolutely nothing to harm me, or he will be such an obedient little servant, that if I told him to kill himself he would." Voldemort's high pitched laughter rang through the hall, and Bella knew better than to not join in.

And it was becoming clearer, in the odd way that Voldemort's plans often did. It would not do to have everyone knowing every detail all at once. She felt a rush of power for her privileged position.

This plan could take months to complete. But either way, Potter would become useless to the rest of the muggle loving wizarding world, and her Lord would have won. Nothing could stop them.

* * *

**A/N:I officially love all you reviewers! My first story has over twice the chapters and half the reviews of this one, yay!Hehe…. however itwas not one of my best, I kind of boxed myself in... Anyway, here goes the thank yous, I'll try not to make it too long!**

**Blackcoat-245, HoshiHikari, flyinghigh, QueenWeasel, Anne, diamondgirl9, DoomGazeHell**, **Michele Malfoy, Horseyfly91, HaRrYrOxMuhSoX, Enola, solo23, Stardustgirl23, and kat,** **thank you! You're all very sweet** **grin**

**Flying High: glad I made you laugh;)**

**Meganv: I _am_ a muse fan, but this fic actually stemmed from a description of Stockholm Syndrome. (Great song though!)**

**Chibbers: another chapter for you sweetie, and another button to press! Glad you're enjoying it.**

**Lil-squirrel, tondo and Shatteredxdream : you will find out soon enough!(hopefully!)**

**Circe: I know nothing about branding looks innocent honest.**

**And a HUGE thank you to my wonderful beta Fippets (who is reading over my shoulder…) her stories are great and you should go read them!(after reviewing mine:p)**

**Thanks guys!**


	6. Arguments and Apologies

"Quick boys!" Molly Weasley shouted as the Hogwarts Express guard blew his whistle and carriage doors started slamming shut.

Harry managed to throw his trunk onto the train with the help of Ron, and then clambered onboard after it. Arthur stood beside his wife waving off the last of the Weasley children, flanked by Fred and George. As Harry leaned out of the carriage window, waving goodbye with Ron, he felt his stomach flinch at the thought that this could be the last time he ever saw the family of redheads.

As if reading his mind, Mrs. Weasley suddenly called out that they would all be together for Christmas, no matter what. Harry's spirits lifted slightly as the train started rolling out of the station. He was on his way back to Hogwarts, where nothing could reach him. Where Dumbledore was. Ron and Ginny started arguing about who was sitting where, while Hermione gave a highly undignified snort and started to read a thick leather bound tome. Harry settled back in his seat and felt some of the tension begin to leave his body. Perhaps it would be alright.

As if to remind him of what was to come, the slowly healing burn on his arm sent a jolt of pain through his body. Harry gave a small yelp and clutched his arm, making the members of the compartment look at him in shocked silence.

"Harry, are you not telling us something?" Hermione asked over the top of her book, before putting it on the seat beside her. 'That girl can be so shrewd sometimes,' Harry thought, only slightly viciously. After all, it was his own fault for drawing attention to himself. Harry shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of everyone. He couldn't tell them about the Dark Mark. Not on top of everything else. They would think he had joined Voldemort, and was performing as some kind of spy, or at least had been made to tell the secrets of the Order. Harry flinched again as the burn sent out another twinge of pain. Truth be told, Harry could not fully remember anything that happened whilst he had been Voldemort's prisoner. Just lots of pain, and hard, everything was…

"Harry, what is wrong with you?" Ron's abrupt question jolted Harry from what he was trying to remember. He opened his mouth to reply when the compartment door slid open, revealing a smirking Malfoy in the doorway.

"Ah, Potty's holding court again." Harry knew from the malicious grin plastered across Malfoy's smug face what he was going to say next, but he seemed to be unable to move or speak, frozen in trepidation.

"But I wander if he has told his court of his new…tattoo… What do you think, Goyle?" Ron sat back down again, after rising to Malfoy's bait, as the troll-like boy came to stand next to the pale Slytherin Prince. But Hermione's eyes were firmly riveted on Harry. Her voice, when she spoke, was abnormally high pitched.

"We know, Malfoy. Now get out, before we hex you worse than last summer."

The look that crossed would almost have been comical, had anyone been taking notice, but they barely even heard the door slide shut as he made a hasty exit with Crabbe and Goyle. Ron was exchanging puzzled glances with Ginny and Neville, whilst Hermione has still not dropped her gaze.

"Tell us what happened while you were with You - Know - Who, Harry." Again, the oddly high pitch. Now everyone's eyes were once again fixed on Harry.

"I…I got…I mean, I was forced…I had no choice, although he said everyone has a choice and…"

"Just tell us Harry!" Hermione's shriek was enough to make the four others jump. She had never raised her voice like that before.

"I received the Dark Mark from Voldemort." And with that Harry rolled up his sleeve, and displayed the foul black burn on his arm. But he kept his eyes downcast. How could he look at any of them again?

A sigh of relief seemed to come from Hermione, which certainly was a shock after the way she had behaved mere moments before, and Harry's eyes flew up to search her face for any signs of disgust. But there were none. In fact, she just picked up her heavy book and continued to read, ignoring Ron, who was currently gaping like a fish. Ginny and Neville, sensing something about to happen, made some hurried excuses and left, giving Harry quite a wide berth, as if he were about to leap up and perform the killing curse on them all.

With the door closed, and Ron's mouth still open, Hermione heaved another sigh, this one of aggravation and put down her book once more, carefully marking her place. It was something she had suspected since Harry's return. After all, why would You-Know-Who just return Harry, virtually unharmed, after barely a day? It had made no sense. But now…

"Harry, why didn't you tell us?" Ron asked, his voice tight with unreadable emotion. Harry looked away again, but his hands started clenching. Hermione could see that a fight was on its way.

"Ron, Harry had his own reasons, I'm sure, for not telling us. You would have done the same if it had happened to you!"

But Ron was working himself up into a state.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us! Dumbledore I can understand, but we're your best friends. Or maybe you didn't want to tell us so we'd tell you secrets about the Order. Is that it? Are you now a spy?" Harry's head shot up and Hermione looked fearfully between the two boys.

"We don't need to…" but she was cut off by Harry's outburst.

"I AM NOT VOLDEMORT'S SPY!" Ron cringed at the look of outrage on Harry's face. "You didn't even _try_ to help me when I was captured; in fact, I seem to remember it was me protecting you. And then you go and bloody accuse me of being his spy? You…You…" but Harry could not find words worse enough to describe Ron. Instead he grabbed his loose belongings and stormed out of the compartment, slamming the sliding door shut behind them so hard that the glass broke.

"_Reparo,_" said Hermione softly, waving her wand at the shards on the floor. She turned to Ron.

"For goodness' sake Ron, you really need to think about what you say. How do you think Harry is coping with this? And he won't be speaking to us after this, so he'll be going through it alone! You can be so thoughtless sometimes." She sat down in a huff and stared out of the window.

Ron shot her a pleading look, but she refused to acknowledge it.

"I didn't know! It was a shock! I'll go and apologise to him…" Ron looked so abject that Hermione had to respond.

"I only realised when he clutched his arm before Malfoy came in. And then Malfoy just confirmed it. That slimy git does have some uses I suppose." Hermione sighed. "Ron, Harry won't be forgiving us any time soon you know. He has been through a lot, and that was pretty below the belt as far as he was concerned. Yes I know you didn't mean it," she said hurriedly as Ron opened his mouth to protest. "But Harry thinks you're turning against him. Again. Let him have the journey alone, and try and speak to him in the morning."

Ron let out a grunt, to show that he accepted her plan and turned to face the window, mentally cursing himself for his loud mouth. He stared out of the rain-splattered window moodily for the rest of the journey.

* * *

Harry sat alone at the beginning of term feast. There were people around him, Seamus and Dean had no clue that anything was wrong until Ron deliberately sat away from Harry. Neville and Ginny made an obvious effort to act natural, although one could hardly help but notice that there was a strained quality to their conversation with Harry. All in all, he had never felt more alone.

At the end of the feast everyone looked expectantly at Dumbledore. After the events of last year he would surely say something on the subject. He did not disappoint the students, and as he stood up, his face was grim.

"It is important not to live in fear, although in these times it is difficult not to. So, to banish this fear," Dumbledore's face broke into a smile. "I have decided to reinstate the original Defence Association, or as many of you would know it, Dumbledore's Army."

There was a shocked silence that followed this announcement, before the portion of students who had been involved in the Army set up a roar of cheers and shouts. Harry sat there astounded. Was he being asked to lead it again? To prepare the school for an attack by Voldemort? His unspoken question was answered quickly by Dumbledore.

"Of course," he said, once the noise had died down a little. "Harry Potter will be leading it; it seems he has the most experience." There were a few laughs from the Slytherin table at this, but everyone else was deathly quiet. They had all heard about the death of Sirius, and those who had not known what this meant were soon informed by others.

"He will be assisted by members of staff, but he will be in charge. And it will take place on Friday evenings, after dinner, in here. It will be compulsory, meaning that anyone who does not, or cannot attend, will have to see Mr. Potter, and be given whatever punishment he sees fit."

Harry sat ashen-face, barely noticing the fact that every single person's attention was now focused on him. More lessons. Whilst trying to combat Voldemort.

'Bloody brilliant.' Harry thought as the hall cleared out around him, the students heading back to their separate houses. Angelina came up to him and mentioned something about Quidditch practice, but he did not hear a word as he stood up and pushed past her on the way to his dorm. He had been back barely 5 hours, and already this year was heading for one of the worst yet, what with no friends, becoming a member of the teaching staff, and…Voldemort. Harry wished he could just end it now as he followed a newly sorted first year through the portrait hole. Ignoring the calls of various students, he crossed the common room and hurried up the stairs to the boys' dormitories; he did not feel much like talking at the moment.

Neville was sitting on one of the beds when Harry entered.

"Hullo, Harry." said Neville, looking apprehensively at Harry, who gave a strange mix between a greeting and a grunt in reply.

"Look, I just wanted you to know that I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. I mean, about the…thing…on you arm…" Neville trailed off when he realised Harry had merely climbed into bed and had drawn the curtains on the stuttering boy. He cast around for something more to say, and finally settled on a "Good night, Harry." before leaving the circular room and hurrying down into the common room, where friendlier people awaited him.

* * *

It had been a restless night for Harry, and judging by the amount of rustling and lack of snores from Ron's bed, it had been restless for him too. But he refused to ask if his friend…former friend was alright.

Ron had also noticed that Harry had barely slept, and decided on a course of action once the pale pink light of dawn filtered in through the windows. He quietly got out of his bed and crept over to Harry's. Pulling back the curtains a little, he climbed onto the bed, and sat at the foot of it, waiting for Harry to say something. He was rewarded with two very silent, very awkward minutes before Harry stopped pretending to be asleep. He sat up and looked at Ron.

"What do you want? I have nothing to say to you." said Harry in a harsh whisper.

"Well, I have something to say to you," shot back Ron.

"Obviously."

"What happened yesterday on the train, I was a complete git for behaving like that. It was just the shock; I know you of all people would never be a spy." Ron looked at the cover on Harry's bed, as if decided what to say. "I guess, well, I'm just trying to say I'm sorry, mate, and neither me nor Hermione want you to go through all this alone."

Harry thought about refusing Ron's apology for a moment. And then he thought of the long year ahead of him, without any friends. He made up his mind.

"It's ok." Ron's face lit up. "You prat."

Ron dived at Harry, and a short play-fight ensued before the curtains around the bed were drawn back by a very disgruntled Seamus.

"SOME of us are trying to sleep. And will you two get a private room!"

Harry and Ron looked at each other with a mixture of horror and amusement, before realising exactly what it must have looked and sounded like to the other members of the room. They dissolved into fits of laughter at the very thought, and both chucked a pillow at Seamus.

"Right! That's it!" he roared, and grabbing his wand, bewitched two pillows to fly at Harry and Ron. Neville and Dean, who by this time had been rudely awakened by the noise, joined in, and soon feathers were flying around the room.

Harry stood on his bed, pillow in hand and looked at the mess around him, laughing. Perhaps this year would not be _quite_ so bad after all.

* * *

**A.N: yay! A little longer than usual. I set out a proper plan today, ( a week by week thing of Harry's time at school etc.) and have realized that this will probably take a long time to write...so look forward to lots of chapters!**

**Shloki: **I have never heard of the town Stockholm in Maine. However Stockholm _is_ the capital of Sweden, and 'Stockholm Syndrome describes the behavior of kidnap victims who, over time, become sympathetic to their captors. The name derives from a 1973 hostage incident in Stockholm, Sweden. At the end of six days of captivity in a bank, several kidnap victims actually resisted rescue attempts, and afterwards refused to testify against their captors.' This description, which is from an online site, is what I based my story on. And thanks!

**HoshiHikari: **The brand was the dark mark…I swear I explained that? Or at least it came across in subtle hints…:S

**Circe: **I do like writing the death eater bits…it's the whole thinking up evil punishment bits I think…mwehehe. But none in this chapter. Shame.

**Stardust, Taurus and Horsefly: **here you go! And you are all lovely for reviewing lots!

**Lady Apolla: **Thank you! And yes he will get his ass kicked…but as to who does it? Well it's a question that confounds us all…

**J752572: **it really caught my imagination (as you can see). So all is good!

**Fippets: **thank you lovely! Glad you're enjoying it, and hope it's inspiring you :P Wait and see what Harry goes and does…hopefully it's a little unexpected…

**And finally, speaking of unexpected, I'm going to plug my other fic, The Unexpected, here, because it's lacking reviewers, and though it's not a great story, it feels lonely without them. And while you're at it…Loose Ends has even less ;)**

**JM xx**


	7. The OWL Results

The good atmosphere surrounding the sixth formers on the Gryffindor table was so utterly different from last night, it was almost unbelievable. Dean and Seamus, although still somewhat disgruntled from their early morning, joked and laughed nonetheless. Hermione slid into a seat opposite Harry and Ron, and smiled cautiously at Harry. When he grinned back at her, she pulled out a sheaf of parchment from her bag, and placed them on the table.

"Timetables." she said. "And Ron, where is your prefect badge?" Harry was glad to see that she was wasting no time in getting back to normal.

"Lost it," Ron replied, swallowing a large mouthful of eggs and pulling the parchments towards himself. Ron obviously did not want to get into more fights about talking with his mouth full after Hermione's constant niggling last year. However, his answer seemed to have induced a mild fit in Hermione. She glared at him sternly, and Harry was reminded, not for the first time, of Professor McGonagall.

"Ronald Weasley! How can you be so careless? What kind of example are you setting, to the first years especially? Right, directly after breakfast we will be going to Professor McGonagall to see if we can get you a new one." knowing better than to argue, Ron merely carried on shifting through the sheets of parchment before he came to one with his name on. He passed the pile to Harry, who found his quite quickly.

"Double Defence Against the Dark Arts, double Herbology, double free…free?" he looked questioningly at Hermione.

"Oh yes," she said airily. "Students have free lessons in sixth and seventh years. They are _supposed _to be for work." the expression on Hermione's face indicated that she rather thought that the two boys opposite her would not use them for this purpose.

"Score!" yelped Ron. "I have six!" he swallowed another mouthful of his breakfast before turning to Harry. "So, Harry, what you going to do about DA this year?"

Hermione looked slightly disconcerted that her advice had been so blatantly ignored, and took out the large book she seemed to be carrying everywhere from her bag. Shooting Harry and Ron one more annoyed look, she opened it and started reading.

"I guess I'll just have to accept the position won't I? I can't just turn Dumbledore down." Harry replied, setting his timetable aside. "Anyway, it will be fun thinking up punishments for Malfoy and cronies."

Ron snorted into his eggs.

"You'll have to study how to turn people into ferrets. I want another repeat of fourth year!" and Ron went off into peals of laughter, remembering Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret. Harry could hardly help but join him, only to be brought out of it by a loud tutting coming from behind Hermione's book.

"I suppose you remember that Dumbledore is against transfiguration for punishment." she sniffed.

Harry rounded on the girl, who seemed determined to keep things as solemn as possible this morning.

"Hermione, what is the matter? Are we not allowed to have a laugh any more?" he asked, but there was an amused glint in her eye as she lowered the book.

"It was hilarious. And you have post." she said, indicating the official looking brown owl sitting in front of Harry. There was one in front of Ron, and Dean, and Seamus and Neville for that matter. Hermione was holing a brown envelope similar to the ones on the owls.

"They're you're OWLs results. Obviously you did well enough in your chosen subjects, but it has the rest there as well." she stated. But Harry detected a slight tremor of excitement in her voice before she used her knife to neatly open the envelope.

'Well, here goes.' He thought nervously, ripping his open. He unfolded the parchment inside.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Below, you will find the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Exams. Any exams unfinished, due to unforeseen events, were marked on the general level of work throughout the rest of the exam._

_Mr. Potter received an OWL in the following subjects._

_Transfiguration O_

_Herbology E_

_Potions O_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts O_

_Astronomy A_

_Divination E_

_History of Magic A_

_Charms O_

_Care of Magical Creatures O_

_If there are any problems with the results, or you would like to re-sit any of the subjects, please inform the Ministry before 30th September._

Harry put down the parchment in shock. He had not only passed all the exams, but he had received five O's, and even more, he had got an E in Divination!

Harry looked at his friends. Hermione was craning her neck, trying to see what he had received. She was obviously pleased; he doubted whether she had got under and O in any of them. He glanced at Ron. The colour had completely drained from Ron's face, and he didn't seem to be breathing.

"Ron?" Harry nudged his friend. "Ron, you ok?"

Ron turned his head to look at Harry, his mouth hanging open.

"I didn't fail, Harry!" he squeaked. "I got four O's, three E's and an A!" Harry laughed and clapped him on the back. Hermione shot Ron an appraising look before Harry turned to her.

"And you, Hermione?"

She blushed a deep pink, and handed him her letter. It was just as he had expected, every single subject had a large round O next to it.

"Well done! Looks like we all got what we wanted." the smile faded off his face as he remembered something. "I just wish Sirius could have seen how well we all did before he…"

"I know, Harry." Hermione reached out and held his hand, as Ron shot him a sympathetic smile.

Harry drew a deep breath before standing up and grabbing his bag.

"Yeah…Come on. We all have Defence first right? And there's no indication as to who the new teacher is. I want to get there early." Hermione and Ron glanced anxiously at each other. Since that one time in Diagon Alley, Harry had not talked to them again about Sirius, and they knew that couldn't be healthy. However, now was not the time or the place. The grabbed their belongings and hurried out of the Hall, after Harry.

* * *

Because of the ominous threat of Voldemort last year, it seemed that everyone in Gryffindor had opted to take this particular subject. However, the house was split up and mixed with the rest of the students in the other three houses. Harry, Ron and Hermione's class consisted of Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Padma and Parvati, Lavender, Justin Finch-Fletchly and a couple of Ravenclaw boys, who Harry did not know very well.

The class was lined up along the wall outside the classroom, waiting for the teacher to appear, when the door swung open and a very familiar voice called out for them to enter the room.

Harry stopped abruptly when he walked into the classroom. There, sitting behind the desk, blue eyes twinkling at the stunned class, was Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

**A.N: Just a short one to keep you guys happy. Thinking about uploading maybe every three to four days? Then it gives me time to actually get out a good chappy, rather than a poor, short one.**

**Thank Yous:**

**Flying High, Virginia Riddle-Malfoy, Horsefly, Lady Apolla, Unknown Reviewer and HoshiHikari…THANK YOU! Just knowing you guys are still enjoying it really helps the writing flow. Honest, I'm a chronic sufferer of writers block!**

**Circe: My lovely, you are very sweet (she gave me a wonderful plug in the a/n of her last chapter) and I really appreciate it! Also, your story rocks, as I have told you many times. Go check it out, it's called Fated, and is fantastic!**

**And a special mention to odders, because I left him out of the last chapter, and he told me off bout it :S sorry honey!**

**No special mention to Fippets this time because the mean lass did not review and also was not around to beta…spending far too much time on that wonderful story of yours me darlin'!**

**JM xxx**


	8. Protego, Quidditch and Dreams

Dumbledore smiled at the assembled class, resting his benevolent gaze on each student in turn.

"You may close your mouth now Mr. Cornfoot." he said to one of the Ravenclaw boys. Harry vaguely remembered seeing them around the school, but he had not shared a class with them yet.

"Now," continued Dumbledore. "I will only be taking this lesson until your new Defence teacher returns. Unfortunately, I am far too busy at the moment to return to teaching, as much as I would like to."

Ron's hand shot up almost faster than Hermione's, nearly knocking Harry's glasses off his nose.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Harry could have sworn Dumbledore winked.

"Who's our new teacher going to be?" Ron blushed, "Sir."

"Ah, a very good question for your first class. I am afraid I have been asked not to reveal their identity before they return to school, although I am sure you will find them perfectly acceptable." Dumbledore turned to wave his wand at the blackboard, where a piece of chalk started writing in flowing script. "Today we shall be discussing defence spells. No doubt you know more than a few, especially those of you who partook in the Defence Association last year. Who can tell me the simplest defence spell? Yes, Miss Granger?"

"There's a two - in - three chance we'll actually get a good teacher this time." Ron snickered as Hermione told Dumbledore of the exact pronunciation, wand movement and properties of the Expelliarmus spell.

"One - in - five if you count the fact that 'Moody' was, in fact, in league with Voldemort." Harry whispered back.

"Excellent Miss Granger!" Dumbledore broke into their conversation. "Five points to Gryffindor. Now Mr. Weasley, if you have finished your conversation with Mr. Potter on the merits of your next defence teacher, would you please use that spell against me?"

Ron stood up, his ears turning as red as his hair, and proceeded to the front of the class.

"Now, I shall attempt to send a simple curse at you, and you shall rid me of my wand. Correct, Mr. Weasley?" Harry noticed the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, and realised that this may not be quite as easy an exercise as Ron believed it to be.

The Headmaster stepped sideways to face Ron, and nodded his head. Ron raised his wand, and shouted "Expelliarmus" sending a jet of spell - light towards Dumbledore. However, Dumbledore merely flicked his wand, which caused the spell to boomerang back towards Ron, who was taken completely unawares as his wand flew out of his hand and landed on Hannah Abbot's lap.

"Now, can anyone tell me what my blocking spell may have been?" Dumbledore asked the astonished class. But even Hermione could not answer the question, despite some obvious thought she was putting into it.

"It is just another simple spell. Does that give anyone a clue?"

Harry racked his brains for a simple spell that deflected other spells. Something stirred in Harry's memory, and he raised his hand. Dumbledore nodded at him to answer.

"Sir, is it Protego?" said Harry doubtfully. "But Professor, I learnt that before the Tri-wizard Tournament, and it was not simple at all."

Professor Dumbledore's face lit up in delight.

"That is the exact spell. Another five points to Gryffindor. Of course, there is a simplified version of the spell, Protecto, which defends the caster from very minor spells. However, am I right to assume that the Protego spell you learnt, Harry, could not deflect spells back to their owner?" Harry nodded. "And why do you think that is?"

'_Perhaps it was because you were under attack from ten Death Eaters, with no one else to protect you.'_ thought a vicious voice in Harry's head, but he ignored the thought, and waited for Dumbledore's explanation.

"Well, Protego and Protecto are both stemmed from the Protector spells. Manny are of a highly advanced and complex level, but some you will be learning in preparation for your NEWTs. Will you please take this down."

The class frantically scrambled for quills from their bags and proceeded to note down the exact use of Protector spells, with some examples for the rest of the lesson, as Dumbledore's enchanted chalk scurried across the board.

As the lesson drew to a close, the class put down their quills and stretched out their cramping hands.

"Now," said Dumbledore. "Next lesson we shall be doing practical work on the spells. I would like you to revise your notes from this lesson, and have a very good day." He smiled at the class as they began to file out of the door, his eyes coming to a rest on Harry. "Harry, could you stay behind for a few minutes, I would like to have a word with you."

Harry motioned to Hermione and Ron to continue as he slid behind a desk in front of Dumbledore, slightly annoyed that the Headmaster would make him late for his next lesson.

"Now Harry, this year you shall be having your occlumency lessons with me, as Snape appears to be unwilling to teach you again." Harry saw a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, as the old wizard continued. "Which days are you free, Harry?"

"Well, I will have quidditch practise again won't I, Professor?" Harry said, trying not to sound rude. Dumbledore nodded to Harry in answer. "Which I think Katie mentioned as being on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and of course I have DA on Friday…" he let the sentence tail off, conveying the fact that he was very much against being asked to teach the whole school without being told about it. Dumbledore seemed not to pick up on Harry's tone of voice.

"I suggest you come on either Thursdays or Mondays then, depending on your prior commitments of course." Harry remembered how at the end of last term, Dumbledore had looked so old, and so tired. Now there was none of that showing in his smiling face.

"Alright, Sir. Thursday it is." and with that Harry picked up his bag and walked out the door, feeling somehow uncomfortable in the Headmaster's presence. He knew he should be telling Dumbledore about the Dark Mark on his arm, but also had a feeling the he already knew. "Goodbye, Professor."

"Goodbye, Harry." he heard Dumbledore say as he left. "If there is anything you need to tell me, do not hesitate in coming to see me." but Harry pretended not to hear as he hurried to his next lesson.

* * *

Harry told Ron and Hermione of what had passed between him and Dumbledore after lunch, in their free lesson. Despite Hermione's hints that they should be spending this time in the library researching Protector spells, they had ended up in the Common Room, sitting in large chairs in front of the fireplace.

"Have you told him about your Dark Mark yet Harry?" said Hermione in a very low voice, after checking that no one could overhear them.

"No." he replied, shifting uncomfortably. "I know I should, but I need to think how first."

Hermione looked at him unbelievingly.

"Hmm…well, if you're sure I suppose." she sniffed. "How was Herbology?"

Glad of the subject change, Harry told them about the lesson spent with Neville helping him to cut Gillyweed in just the right way to ensure its magical properties stayed intact.

The portrait door swung open, making the three look up from their conversation. Katie Bell entered and walked over to them, the Quidditch Captain badge glinting against her black robes.

"We have try-outs after school today, and I expect the whole team to be there, ok?"

Harry and Ron nodded, Katie's tone of voice was completely different from a year ago. She sounded much more brisk, and focused and…

Ron said exactly what Harry was thinking.

"She sounds like Oliver Wood!"

* * *

Harry and Ron were exhausted by the time they met the rest of the team on the Quidditch Pitch. Harry looked curiously at the new team. It looked so different from the one he had played with for the last five years. Ginny was standing next to Katie, looking slightly bored with what was going on. She had told him at some point that she much preferred being chaser to seeker.

"More opportunities to score." she had said, with a peculiar grin on her face. Harry didn't even want to know what she meant by that.

Ron took up his place next to the two beaters, Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper. They both looked more like Slyherins, Harry had thought privately. Perhaps they had some hidden quality. He continued past the beaters to his place at the end of the line, and looked at the raggedy line up of potential chasers. Only one seemed to stand out from the crowd, being of equal height and stature to both Ginny and Katie. She was a third year, not especially striking, but Harry could tell that she would be a good flyer.

Katie stepped forward holding a list of names.

"When I call out your name, would you please fly up with Ginny here, who will put you through your paces." she said, unfolding the list, "I will tell you now that practises will take place on a Tuesday and a Wednesday after school, and if these can't be met, please don't waste your time trying out." Harry shot Ron a sideways look, making Ron stifle a laugh. Katie glared at them, "And the rest of the team will answer any questions you may have. Can I have Euan Abercrombie first please?"

Ron sidled over to Harry as Euan was given a gruelling try-out by Ginny.

"Who's she?" he said, motioning to the girl Harry had spotted earlier.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Harry shrugged.

"She looks good doesn't she?" he raised his eyebrow at Ron, who blushed and stammered "I mean, a good flyer. I think." to which Harry just laughed.

Euan finally landed looking as pale as one of the Hogwarts ghosts. Katie sent him off to get changed before calling out "Natalie MacDonald!" Harry and Ron stood back to watch as the Third year stepped forward and mounted her broom.

Neither of them were mistaken; the girl could definitely fly, and would make a superb chaser with a bit of training. Harry saw Katie's face break into a delighted grin as the girl touched down on the ground again. On his other side, Ron had his mouth hanging open.

* * *

By the time Harry crawled into bed, his eyes could hardly stay open. He muttered a goodnight to Ron, and received only a grunt in return. Laying his head on the pillow, he slipped into sleep, and dreamed.

* * *

**A/N: You lot are so wonderful with your reviews! Let's see if we can get it up to 100 eh? And sorry if things are moving a little slowly at the moment, Harry has not forgotten what will happen, but the first day back has taken his mind off things a little. Some action will be coming soon…I hope!**

**Thank yous:**

**Flying High: Dumbledore will not make the same mistake twice, but still believes in letting Harry sort things out for himself. And ten house points if you can guess who the new teacher is going to be!**

**CPegasus, odders, horsefly and Stardust girl, thank you for more kind words. As the tesco ads go…every little helps!**

**Circe: I was definitely thinking of GCSE results when I wrote that. But did anyone spot the deliberate mistake?(which I will change asap)**

**And of course, special thank you once again goes to fippets, who not only is a wonderful, patient beta, but a brilliant writer and a long reviewer! Have a biscuit my lovely. **

**Also my maths with the odds of a new teacher was appalling, but didnt want to spend ages trying to work it out. sorry!**


	9. In the Heart of Darkness

_There were candles burning in the brackets. The room was familiar somehow, large, with a very high ceiling. Despite the seeming lack of candles, the room was very bright, so bright that the light hurt Harry's eyes after the soft blackness of his dormitory._

_He looked about himself. Harry was surrounded by hooded people- 'Servants.' he thought dismissively-and they all looked strangely familiar. In fact, the entire circle reminded him of something. This did not have the usual unreal quality of his dreams. This was very real, like when he dreamed of Voldemort. Harry froze as something clicked into place in his brain, and heard a high pitched coming from somewhere. It took him a while to realise it was coming from his own mouth…except it wasn't his own mouth was it? He was once again in Voldemort's body, and this time he knew he was not undetected. He could feel Voldemort…watching him almost? But that wasn't quite right either. But his…no, **the **Dark Lord knew what was happening._

_There was a veiled object in front of Harry, or rather, in front of Voldemort's body. He motioned two people forward to uncover it, and they ran to do his bidding. As the cover slipped off, Harry recoiled in disgust. In front of him was a large ornate mirror, and for the first time, he could see himself in Voldemort's body. The hideous reality of this sunk in. this was not a dream, this was another plan of Voldemort. He had called Harry here, and now he was in Harry's mind, and Harry was in his body. The expression of horror on Voldemort's face as Harry realised all this made it look even more grotesque that its usual evil sneer._

_Then Harry noticed that the reflection in the mirror seemed to be flickering, distorting itself into something else. It grew darker, no longer mirroring Voldemort's face and the room in which Harry was standing, but growing smaller. Was it a bed chamber? No, it was his dormitory at Hogwarts. 'Oh **God.**' he thought fearfully, 'What's he going to do now?' Harry could just make out beds, but the curtains around them were drawn so he could not see if anyone was within. It was then that Harry discerned that one of the beds did not have it's curtains drawn, and in that bed was…Harry._

"_My body!" Harry shrieked in Voldemort's foul high voice. "He's in my body!" and around him, the hooded figures laughed._

_The green eyes that Harry knew to be his own, yet now seemed so unlike his own flashed at him as the…creature looked up. Voldemort was looking out of those eyes, directly at Harry. He knew the boy would be watching. He bared his teeth in a vile imitation of a smile, and took up Harry's wand from the table beside his bed. Voldemort raised his arm, pointed the wand at himself, and uttered just one word._

"_Crucio."_

Harry awoke to not only a searing pain in his scar, but to his body on fire. He could not stop screaming, nor, he realised, move his wand away from where it was angled towards his body. The more he writhed with the burning pain, the tighter he gripped his wand, and the more power seemed to be going into the spell which was coursing out of its tip. The pain was so great, he could not think, or move. He just continued to emit the ghastly scream of pain and terror.

That's was when Ron woke up, along with the rest of the boys.

He wrenched back the curtains, and at first thought he was still asleep as he saw the sight before him. Harry was performing the Cruciatus curse on himself. Harry was convulsing, the beam of light coming out of the wand-tip waxing and waning with each jerk. Ron tried to wrench Harry's arm away from him, but it was like wrestling a statue; he would not budge. So Ron did the next thing that came into his head. He drew back his own arm, and punched Harry in the jaw so hard he thought he could hear his knuckles break.

Thankfully Harry reeled back into unconsciousness, and the spell stopped.

"Help me get him to the Hospital wing!" Ron practically yelled at Dean and Seamus. He cradled his hand, and looked sharply at Neville, who, it appeared, could not stop shaking.

"And get Dumbledore." Ron turned away, and so did not see the effort with which Neville pulled himself back together now that he had a mission. He scurried past Ron, and clattered down the stairs, as he ran to fetch the Headmaster.

* * *

Harry was starting to come round by the time they reached Madam Pomfrey. She bustled out of her office and exclaimed her shock as she saw the two boys carrying Harry, and Ron with a bleeding, obviously broken hand.

"Fighting?" She asked as she prepared a bed and then laid Harry down on top of it.

"Dreaming." Ron replied shortly, cradling his hand, knowing that the pain he was feeling was nothing to what Harry had been feeling only a handful of minutes ago. "I think he had another…vision or something." Madam Pomfrey nodded to show she understood. "He was performing the Cruciatus curse on himself when I woke up. Or rather, I was woken up by his screams." Ron sank into a chair, and waited as the motherly woman checked Harry over. She had barely responded to what he had said, other than making her examination more thorough. She finally looked up.

"He will recover. There doesn't seem to be any lasting damage. Ah, Headmaster."

Ron looked round as Dumbledore walked over to where Harry was lying, looking more serious that Ron had ever seen him. He also examined Harry minutely before turning to Ron.

"Would you please come with me, Mr. Weasley?" However his request was overridden by Madam Pomfrey, who had remembered Ron's hand.

"His hand is broken, Professor." she said firmly. "I will send him along once it is healed." And Ron was amazed to see Dumbledore bow his head gracefully at her words.

"Of course, Poppy. I would not like him bleeding all over my study." And Dumbledore left the room.

'He winked! He winked at me!" Ron thought in a state of shock, hardly noticing what Madam Pomfrey was doing with his hand. He cast a worried glance at Harry, but it seemed that she had given him a sleeping draught as soon as he had started to stir. She noticed where Ron was looking and answered his silent question for him.

"He will heal better if he rests, and I have made sure he will not be…disturbed in any way."

This was good enough for Ron. If he was protected from You - Know - Who, then he could speak with Dumbledore, for a few minutes at least.

"Now off you trot, and the password is Acid Drop."

Ron nodded to show he had heard, before hurrying out of the room. On the way to Dumbledore's office, he marvelled at the unblemished skin on his knuckles which had been split not twenty minutes ago. If she could heal Harry up half as well, which she had many time, he reminded himself, it may not be quite so bad.

He approached the statue in front of Dumbledore's office and said "Acid Drop." rather uncertainly, wondering if he had heard correctly. But the statue sprang aside and Ron was able to step through onto the moving staircase. The door to the office was open as he stumbled off the top step, and he could see Fawkes through the open door. Aside from the bird, however, the room was completely. He hesitantly stepped inside, trying not to stare at any thing too hard. Whispers from the portraits and the rustle of Fawkes' feathers were the only sounds, until one elderly looking portrait stood up.

"You would be here to see the Headmaster I presume?" Ron nodded mutely, not entirely sure how else he should respond. "Very well." the old wizard vanished from the picture, and Dumbledore entered a moment later.

He motioned to Ron to sit down, and before sitting down himself behind his desk. He looked at the boy over the tips of his steepled fingers. Ron expected him to ask about what had happened, or perhaps how Harry had been recently. But the question that was posed for him took him completely by surprise.

"How long have you known about Harry's Dark Mark?"

* * *

**A/N: a little bit of action to keep you guys happy. I do kinda get carried away with exploring the characters, and this story Is going to take place throughout the school year, so it will be pretty long. It will speed up after this chapter. I promise.**

**Thank yous:**

**Odders and Hoshi: thanks again**

**Dr Rubadinghy: ta me dear, but no, no romance. Just Ron tripping up over his sentences. Again.**

**Lady Apolla: as you can see…**

**Circe: thanks deary, and you are a brill writer (go check out fated, bloody fantastic!)**

**Chibbers: here's another button for you. Yay! And all your other reviews were lovely.**

**CPegasus: you may be getting points in the near future…but that remains to be seen.**

**Taurus07: oh I'm so naughty aren't I? and look! Another lovely cliffy for you to shout about. And is this a big enough attack for you? There will be lots more in the future, but the poor boy has to have a rest sometime.**

**And of course, Fippets gets special mention again. For possibly the longest review ever!**


	10. Little Voices

Something stirred in the depths of Harry's slumbering mind. It slid through his subconscious, leaving tiny trails behind itself.

It seemed to reach a barrier, making it interrupt its searching journey. The…thought, for want of a better word, swelled, feeding off the power which formed the barrier, before breaking through the weakened obstruction. The thought continued on its way, the trail it was leaving drifting up through Harry's mind.

If anyone had been watching the sleeping boy closely, they would have noticed his lips move to form a word.

"Mine."

Ron had not moved since Dumbledore had asked his question, but now the portraits were beginning to give him strange looks. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

"I…um…I knew, I mean I've known since the train journey here. He was kind of forced to show us. By Hermione."

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Of course, Miss Granger would have had no problem finding out I am sure." he sighed. " Mr. Weasley, did you notice the mark before Harry revealed it to you?"

Ron thought back. Harry had kept his arms well covered, despite the sweltering heat at the end of summer, but he could not remember seeing anything the few times Harry had not worn sleeves.

"No sir, and I am sure I would have noticed." he said, not quite sure where this was going.

"So, it worked to an extent." Dumbledore let out a small chuckle. "I do believe Voldemort-" Ron flinched "-underestimates me! And also Miss Granger's detective abilities. Very well. Now, about this dream he had, do you have any idea what could have been involved in it?"

Ron shook his head. It had been more a case of punch now, ask later in order to stop that curse.

"It is my belief, Mr. Weasley, that the mark provides a link with the Dark Lord himself. A little like Harry's scar, but it allows Voldemort access to possess Harry."

Ron stood up involuntarily.

"You mean V…V…You-Know-Who was in our room last night? In Harry? Why didn't he do anything to us?"

"Please seat yourself Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore said softly, and Ron did what he was bid. "It is my belief that Voldemort is trying to torment Harry, which he could then, of course, use to his advantage, as Harry would no longer fulfil the prophecy." Ron looked up sharply, but Dumbledore continued as if he had noticed nothing. "It is a problem that we will have to deal with very quickly, within the next two weeks, I would say. Now, perhaps you should go and have an early breakfast, seeing as it is hardly worth going back to bed." he said, his eyes twinkling at Ron, who was completely dumbstruck by the news.

He left the room after Dumbledore's bidding, and set off for the Great Hall, vowing to have a serious talk with Harry once he had eaten. What had the prophecy to do with anything?

Harry was released from the Hospital wing once lessons were over for the day, and he was in the Common Room when Ron returned, unaccompanied.

"Harry, can I talk to you?" Harry noticed his friend looked serious as he walked with him up to their dormitory. He turned to face Ron knowing what he was about to ask.

"Three guesses what this is about." Harry said lightly, trying to avoid the humourless expression on Ron's face.

"Are you feeling better?" Ron asked.

"Much. A curse does absolutely wonders you know."

"Don't be sarcastic with me, Harry, I was only asking." Ron returned sharply. His friend simply rolled his eyes. "I spoke to Dumbledore this morning before breakfast, when you were still out of it. He mentioned something about the prophecy and how you couldn't fulfil it if you were not Voldemort's equal." Harry was definitely avoiding his gaze now. "Care to explain?"

"Not really." and Ron saw something on Harry's face which he had never seen before. A sneer. "I'm sure _Dumbledore_ would explain if you asked him nicely. Actually, I'm sure he would be perfectly happy to divulge any of my secrets at a hint." Harry finished, his face distorted in such a cruel glare that he looked completely different.

"What is wrong with you?" Ron was more worried than angry now.

"Nothing's bloody wrong with me!" Harry spat. "It's every other bloody person in this place who thinks they have a right to tell the world my secrets, yet keep me in the dark. It's _me_ who's getting the nightmares; _me_ who has to cope with this. And do you know what Dumbledore is afraid of? How to keep his _precious_ weapon safe. That's all I am! A bloody WEAPON!"

Ron stepped back in alarm. What had he unleashed here? Harry looked more bitter and angry than Ron had ever seen him, even last year in the aftermath of Diggory's death. Harry flung himself onto the bed, and, to round it all off, started to cry.

Ron awkwardly sat down beside him in an attempt to pacify the disillusioned boy.

"Is that what the prophecy said then?" he said tentatively. A muffled "yes." was heard.

"But you're not, though, are you? Just a weapon I mean." Harry looked up savagely and Ron hastily continued. "You mean something to all of us too. We all like you for who you are, not what you can do. Like me, Hermione, Mum, Ginny, Remus…I could go on."

The expression on Harry's face softened at Ron's surprisingly astute words, but the tears, if anything, seemed to flow faster. This was getting uncomfortable. Harry never cried.

"I know. It's just, no one ever seems to stop and ask how I feel." he said, trying in vain to stem the fall of tears. "They never stop to ask if I want any of this, and believe me, I don't. You know, I don't even know which thoughts are mine any more. Or even whether I'm lashing out at my friends or whether…something else is." Ron looked at his stricken friend, and could not think of anything to say. The thought that what was talking might not be all Harry, well, it made him shiver in fear. But Ron resolved to be strong for Harry, and to tell Hermione at the soonest possible chance. They were all in this together, not just Harry.

The days turned into weeks after the initial excitement of the beginning of term, and November came crisp and clear, bringing with it the first Quidditch match of the season. In between Occulmency lessons, D.A. meetings (which, with the help of the teachers turned out to be far easier than Harry had ever anticipated,) and the piles of homework now being assigned to the Sixth years, Harry had somehow found time to attend Quidditch practices. The new team was certainly gaining a whole new shape, becoming tighter, faster and altogether far better than the previous year.

The new chaser was absolutely superb, and Harry had watched her fly with something approaching awe many times. However, she was unbelievably shy, and visibly scared of Harry, barely talking and seemingly unable to look at him. It broke the closeness of the group somehow.

Ginny was also shaping up well in her new position, and Ron had definitely done some practice over the summer. Now much more confident in his role of goalkeeper, he had not let a single quaffle past him in practice. But it was time to prove that he could do the same in a match. In their first match against Hufflepuff to be precise.

The first Saturday of November dawned bright and cold, and found the Gryffindor team in the Great Hall very early. Silence reigned as they each contemplated their roles in the upcoming game, and, once they had all finished, they set off for the Qudditch pitch to try out some last minute tactics. Harry was particularly quiet, and Ron knew exactly why.

"What was it about last night, mate?" said Ron, casting a sideways glance at the dark haired boy. He was referring to a particularly violent dream, in which Harry had thrashed around for a considerable amount of time before finally settling down. Ron was the only one who had not been able to sleep through it.

Harry shrugged as they approached the pitch.

"It's the same as the last few bad ones I've had. I can't remember the exact dream, just an overwhelming feeling of darkness, and pain and," Harry looked a little sheepish, "_mine._"

Ron didn't even react to this strange sentence any more. It was exactly the same as the last few restless nights which he had asked Harry about.

"Do you think it's-"

"Voldemort possessing me?" Harry cut in, ignoring Ron's flinch. "Possibly. I can't tell any more can I?" he said bitterly, gathering his robes from the bench inside the changing rooms and slipping them on over his head. "Dumbledore keeps telling me the same thing. 'Shut it out, Harry. Clear your mind.'" he mimicked. " but it's as if this is already in my mind. If you understand what I mean."

Ron nodded slowly, and truthfully, for he really did know what Harry meant. And it sounded much like what Ginny had said about being possessed by Voldemort at the end of their second year. His thoughts were cut off by Katie Bell clearing her throat.

"Right team, this year, we're going to do better than ever before-"

"-We won the cup last year, what more does she want?" whispered Ginny, quite audibly. Katie shot her a death glare.

"_As I was saying_! This year, we will win the cup by a greater gap in points. I don't want any of this not knowing until the last goal. We are going to do it!"

Jack Sloper gave a cough which sounded remarkably like 'Angelina' but Katie chose to ignore this interruption.

"Harry, give us time to build up points before you catch the Snitch, unless the situation's getting dire. As in, they are winning by more points than we can hope to get back." Harry nodded at the words he had heard during every practice since the first week.

"Chasers, just stay in the close formation like we have been practising and we'll be fine. Beaters, you have been doing a good job, but we need to have our paths clear. And Ron, well done. For heavens' sake, keep it up though." It was Ron's turn to glare.

The noise from outside the changing rooms was getting much louder as the rest of the school filed onto the pitch. Snatches of 'Weasley is our King' could be heard, but this time sung by the warmer tones of the Gryffindors. In fact, all Slytherin voices seemed to be silent, and there had been no usual taunting in the run up to this match. They were definitely up to something.

Harry stepped on to the pitch, swung himself onto his broom and took up his place in formation with the rest of the team. A strange light heartedness had come over him. Up here, in the air, it felt like nothing mattered anymore; Voldemort did not exist, no one had died. All that mattered now was the game, and, eventually, the cup. It was absolute bliss.

The team worked seamlessly together, the chasers scoring goal after goal, the beaters deflecting any bludger that even hinted of going near a Gryffindor player. Ron flew lazily around his posts; the Hufflepuffs hadn't been near his end in the last twenty minutes. As Harry circled the pitch like a hawk, keeping his eyes peeled for the tiny Golden Snitch, more to distract his opposing seeker rather than actually catch it, he felt the usual rush of exhilaration that he felt during a game. There was a wave of sound from the spectators as Ginny shot yet another incredible goal, and Harry could hear Seamus' voice over the roar announcing the new score of 90-0 to Gryffindor.

'He's not nearly as good as Lee Jordan was.' Harry thought wistfully.

Ten seconds later they scored another goal.

Harry began to focus more closely on searching for the Snitch. Now, with a 100 point lead, was the time to end the game. The Hufflepuff seeker, Julian Summerby, was flying around aimlessly, obviously looking for the Snitch, but not having much success.

And then, Harry saw it. Or rather saw Ron trying to wave subtly at him as the tiny winged ball fluttered in and out of one of the hoops. Harry put on a huge burst of speed, praying that Summerby wouldn't see where he was heading. He was closer, but Harry had the faster broom, and was already in motion. And suddenly he was there, hand curling around the Snitch. But in the euphoria of getting there so quickly, he forgot to stop the broom, and as it hit the post he was catapulted right through the central Hufflepuff goalpost. The counter showing the scores flicked to ten for the Hufflepuff team, and two hundred and eighty for the Gryffindors.

Harry was falling, falling, the ground rushing up to meet him. Before he smashed into the ground though, he felt himself slowing down, coming to a halt just above the grass of the pitch and then sinking down onto the earthy surface.

_I can't have you leaving my service that easily._ Something hissed inside his head.

Harry froze. He was here. He was back inside his head. Voldemort was in his head. Panic surged up inside him, but Harry forced himself to maintain an outwards appearance of calm as Madam Hooch landed beside him, and his team mates raced up to him.

"What was all that about Mr. Potter?"

"Bloody hell, Harry! That was the funniest catch since-"

"Are you sure you're-"

"Katie will not be please with those points you gave-"

"That'll go down in history mate!"

The words washed over Harry. Meaningless, unintelligible babble. Dumbledore had been warning him about closing his mind before large emotional times and now this...

He was being jostled by red and gold clothed people, looked over by Madam Pomfrey, taken up to the Gryffindor common room, given a bottle of celebratory Butterbeer and clapped on the back a hundred times over. But it was as if this was all happening to someone else. All he could focus on was the hissing voice in the back of his mind.

Had Voldemort really penetrated past the defences he had constructed, and which Dumbledore had constructed around him? Or was he already there. Was he now _trapped _inside Harry's head. Or a part of him at least.

Harry was suddenly dragged off to one side and found himself looking into the anxious brown eyes of Hermione. Ron hovered behind her.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she said, her grip on his arm tightening. "You haven't said a word since the game. What has he done to you?"

Harry looked at Ron momentarily, wondering how much he had told Hermione. Correctly guessing that Ron had told her everything, he turned back to Hermione.

"Voldemort is in my head. Trapped in my head. And he saved me from dying in the match, saying it was 'too easy a death'" Harry affected a cold high voice, that so closely mimicked that of Voldemort's that Hermione and Ron took an involuntary step backwards.

"But how-" Hermione started, but was cut off quickly by Ron.

"He left some of himself in you after that first night here. Dumbledore guessed some of that might happen."

Harry nodded slowly at the explanation. There was a fear in his eyes which neither of his friends had seen before as he uttered next statement.

"He's going to bring me back."

**A/N: sorry about the slow update. Was at TBS and Greenday last week, and what with school work and being at school all last weekend, I haven't had much time to write.**

**A huge thank you to all my reviewers, it's too late to do special mentions to you all. Well…just a few then.**

**Dr Rubadinghy: don't bring our devised piece into my fanfiction. That would be unbearable beyond words.**

**HoshiHikari: Dumbledore knows everything…hehe**

**And fippets, keep the long reviews. You do them so well:)**

**To the rest of you, I love you all! Now you know the drill, read, enjoy, review.**

**JMxx**


	11. Letters

"What happened at the match, Harry?" Dumbledore looked at the sullen boy with concern. He had believed that they had overcome this obstacle of believing Dumbledore was using him as a weapon, and therefore someone to rebel against. Now it seemed this was not so. Harry had not said a word since the beginning of this particular Occulmency lesson, and refused to meet Dumbledore's eyes.

Harry mumbled something.

"I am sorry, Harry, but I didn't quite-" but he was cut off as Harry's head shot up, his emerald eyes flashing.

"I said," he growled in a tone quite unlike his own, "That Voldemort is in my head and is trapped there thanks to your stupid prevention spells, and at some point he's going to bloody bring me back to wherever he's hiding and try to control me like the megalomaniac he is."

Ah.

"I see. May I see if I can find this…part of Voldemort?"

Dumbledore assumed Harry's snort meant yes. He looked into Harry's bright eyes, his pupils dilated in anger, and allowed his mind to drift into his mind. He felt a slight resistance as he reached Harry's mental barrier, and noted in passing that is was considerably weaker in strength and magical power than he had ever seen it.

'Interesting.' thought the Headmaster, as he drifted further, probing here and there into certain, valuable, memories of Harry. There was nothing, all seemed to be untouched, not a trace of anything in any of the…

Wait a minute.

A tiny sliver of a thought, like silver filigree, floated past him. _Mine._

Now with a purpose Dumbledore traced the thread back, back until he found its source. Curled up tight in the depths of Harry's earliest memories was a…thing. A thought, but a cognitive thought. This thought was alive, pulsing with power and magic, and most certainly not a part of Harry.

Dumbledore pushed at this thing, trying to see what it was.

_Mine._

He pushed a little harder. He could feel this thing drawing not only power from Harry, faster than it was doing before, but from another source as well.

_Mine._

If he could just access just a tiny part of this…parasite he would be able to find the other source, although he had a pretty shrewd idea already. Just that little bit further nearly there…

_MINE!_

Dumbledore felt himself be pushed out of Harry's mind with such a phenomenal force that it felt like he had been punched in the head.

Harry started up as the Headmaster rocked in his chair. He had felt something else in his mind, not just Dumbledore. It was there.

The old wizard composed himself before looking back at Harry, noting the boy's look of concern.

"Well Harry, there is definitely something in there. In fact, something which has so much magic that it was able to not only close itself to me, but to actually expel me from your head." He took a few ragged breaths. He really was getting far too old for this. "It appears to be feeding off your magic, and also that of another."

Harry looked at his hands and replied in a very small voice. "Voldemort."

If Dumbledore had been surprised at this, he did not show it.

"That is correct. However, I think Voldemort is feeding his power into it, rather than it feeding off him. Which is not as bad a it sounds, I assure you."

Harry gave him a look of disbelief. How could this be anything other than the worst situation he had ever been in? Including the night his parents died.

"I don't understand, Professor. I think having a part of the Dark Lord in my head is quite possibly as bad as it gets." Harry was trying to be polite, he really was, but his patience was wearing thin.

"I believe that this is what will fulfil the Prophecy. If we could find a way to bind his power to you Harry, it could-" for the second time during this evening Dumbledore was cut off.

"Could what?" Harry leapt up out of his seat. "Make me stronger? Make me a more powerful _weapon_? Is that it? AM I JUST YOUR WEAPON IN _YOUR _WAR?" He let out a strangled scream of rage at the motionless old man. He cast around for something to throw, but the desk was surprisingly less cluttered than it had been at the beginning of the summer. He kicked over his chair, to which Dumbledore moved not a muscle, before slamming out of the round office.

Dumbledore knew that Harry had yet to understand fully, and therefore could not control his anger. But this was getting tiring. He sighed and pulled some papers towards him and started to read a worn document, something which he had read many times, The Last Will and Testament of Sirius Black.

* * *

Hermione was badgering Ron about his Transfiguration essay on Animagi when Harry entered the Common Room. She looked up as he stormed past.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm going to bed." Was his snarled response. Hermione motioned at Ron with her head to follow him. He looked perplexed.

"But I think he wants to be left alone, I mean-" but he was cut off by a look which greatly resembled one of his mothers. The If-You-Don't-Take-My-Hint-Seriously-There-Will-Be-Dire-Consequences look. "-oh."

Ron stood awkwardly in front of the curtains which were drawn quite formidably around Harry's bed. He was reaching out tentatively to draw one back when a tiny, fluffy ball shot out and rammed into his chest, almost knocking him over.

"Bloody hell!" he yelped as the ball picked itself up and whizzed over to the window. Ron's keeper reflexes served him extraordinarily well as he leapt in front of the thing and caught it tight in his hand. Ron nearly opened his hand again in shock when he realised what he had caught.

Pigwidgeon hooted loudly, and pecked viciously at Ron's hand, as he slowly walked to Harry's bed and drew back the curtains.

"What did he deliver?" the question almost choked Ron. Harry thrust out a surprisingly still hand holding a piece of black parchment. Ron took it gingerly and unfolded it with his free hand. The pale writing seemed to shimmer and writhe across the black background, looking for all the world like a long thin snake.

_You will not let Dumbledore in that deep again. I will know. _

_You will come at Christmas._

It was signed with a tiny Dark Mark, the snake moving in and out of the grinning skull like a grotesque tongue. There was no mistaking who this was from, although why _he_ was notifying Harry like this, and even why he found it necessary to have Pigwidgeon was completely beyond Ron. He looked anxiously at Harry, but his friend had a calm, almost accepting expression on his face. Reaching out, Harry slowly uncurled Ron's fingers from around Pig's fluffy body, and the bird flew off out the window, hooting loudly.

"What is wrong with you?" Ron said loudly, causing Harry to jump and his expression to change into one of confusion. "We could have tracked where You-Know-Who is by following that bloody bird. You absolute idiot!" Ron was sorely tempted to shake Harry as he looked about himself, looking as if he had just woken up.

"I…what?" Harry shut his eyes, and when they opened again Ron could see he was more focused. "He sent me that letter didn't he? I'm sorry Ron, I think it triggered…well. I don't know. But I wasn't in control just then."

Both of the boys' gazes were quite suddenly drawn to the letter that lay between them as emerald flames proceeded to engulf it, making the parchment curl and crumble to ash. Only the word Christmas was visible, until it too burnt away.

Ron started to tell Harry that he should perhaps tell Dumbledore, but Harry read his mind.

"I am not going to tell him anything. As far as he is concerned, I am a weapon. I'm going to deal with this by myself." and the glare on his face was so defiant, Ron dared not argue.

* * *

**A/N: I am so sorry this has a) been such a long time coming, and b) been so short. Firstly I have had one hell of a busy week, up in Manchester for Choir of the Year semi-finals (which we won along with Farnham!) and lots and lots of work. Also I am not at all well:( but I did just want to get this chapter out, just to keep all you lovely reviewers happy.**

**Thanks guys.**

**Kelly, Bellatrix Riddle, Taurus, Silverspectre, Lady Apolla, Dr. Rubadinghy, Hoshi, Pegasus, Stardustgirl and odders: thank you all. You all make me feel very special and loved (which is really what I need at the moment.)**

**Circe: I'm a quidditch obsessee. What can I say?**

**Virginia Riddle Malfoy: I realise now it was a little unclear. Hopefully this explained it somewhat, but Voldemort will bring harry back to his wonderful house. Which I have yet to locate…**

**And of course, Fippets with the wonderful long reviews. I love you deary, you make me laugh! (and she sang a brilliant solo on Sunday…)**

**JM xx**


	12. Kidnapped

The funny thing about time is that the longer you try to stop it, the faster it seems to flow. The weeks until Christmas were trickling away and Harry was powerless to stop them. First the snow fell, blanketing the ground in soft white, belying the muddy paths surrounding the castle. Then the Christmas decorations appeared almost overnight, or so it seemed. Then the list for who was staying at school over Christmas went up on the Common Room notice board. Then there was a week left of school, then a day, then Harry was boarding the train for London with Ron and Hermione, then they were being ushered into The Burrow.

* * *

Harry dragged his trunk up to Ron's room and gloomily wondered where the time had gone. Well, here he was, waiting for Voldemort's summons. Harry's stomach flipped over as he thought about how Voldemort might summon him. Surely he would not appear at The Burrow in person…would he? Harry half-heartedly tried to clear his thoughts, but to no avail. It was all he could think about. 

There was a knock at the door, and Ginny quietly came into the room. Harry tried not to heave a sigh. As funny as it may have seemed, he was not in the mood for talking.

"You know, moping around up here won't prevent him from reaching you." Ginny got straight to the point. "Mum says would you like dinner, and she can bring it up to you if you want. I would not take advantage of that offer if I were you."

As much as Harry hated to admit it, he knew that she was right. He left his trunk unpacked beside Ron's bed and followed her downstairs.

The usual fun and laughter that occurred during Weasley dinners was only slightly dampened by Harry's initial mood, and after a couple of 'demonstrations' from Fred and George of their new cutlery range, even he had to laugh as it turned out he was holding yet another fork which drooped and refused point blank in a high, tinny voice to pick up his food.

Just when he thought he could eat no more, Mrs. Weasley came in carrying a huge dish full of cooked peaches. The mere smell almost drove him wild and everyone willingly held out their bowls for helpings.

Finally the dishes cleared themselves away and Mrs. Weasley allowed the children to go to bed. Harry and Ron said goodnight to Hermione at the turn of the stairs, and then turned into Ron's room. Never had a bed looked more welcome as Harry finally allowed himself to relax and let his tiredness wash over him. Voldemort could not reach him here. He was safe, he could sleep.

"'Night, Harry" he heard Ron mumble sleepily. He gave a satisfied grunt in reply before turning over and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Harry squinted to keep his eyes shut against the wintry sun streaming in through the windows. He heard Ron mutter something indistinguishable from the next bed, and the sound of a very irate person getting up to draw the curtains more tightly. 

"Whatimesit?" Harry asked sleepily. Ron merely grunted in reply. Harry managed to open one eye wide enough to peer at his watch, and felt a strange pride as he found he had slept right through the night without a single dream.

"I don' WANNA do 'ny more 'velopes." Ron, it seemed, hadn't been so lucky.

Now that Harry was awake he knew he couldn't return to his blissful sleep, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He tried to quietly exit the room, but tripping over the edge of Ron's duvet, he ended up sprawled across the end of Ron's bed.

"What? What is it?" the half asleep boy exclaimed sitting up sharply.

Harry looked up at him sheepishly. "I just tripped. Go back to sleep."

But Ron shook his head a if clearing away the last images of his dream, and then pushed Harry off the bed.

"I might as well get up now. You lump." Harry left Ron to get dressed and made his way down the stairs to breakfast. Mrs. Weasley was stirring a huge pot of porridge, and Harry sniffed appreciatively at the savoury smell.

"Ah Harry dear. Sit down, and chose what you want on your porridge. It's chilly this morning, you'll need a good meal inside you." she said, not turning her back on the stove. Ron stumbled downstairs as Harry was examining Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Syrup ('A different flavour with every mouthful!'). He decided against it.

"Letter for you." Ron yawned as he passed a thick, pale gold parchment across to Harry. He opened it with the handle of his spoon.

_Mr. Potter,_

_Do not read this out loud if you value the Weasley's lives._

_Our time together draws ever closer. A matter of seconds in fact._

_Don't let go of the letter._

Once again it was signed with a tiny, animated Dark Mark. But Harry barely had time to register this before he felt a familiar tug from behind his navel. He started to panic. How could he have been so stupid? How had this got past him? A rushing sound filled his ears…

Ron and Mrs. Weasley watched in shock as Harry vanished before their eyes.

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry for taking so long with this excuse for a chapter. I know what has to happen next, but this particular chapter gave me a lot of difficulties and writer's block (although i did manage to complete The Darkest Riddle, which is quite possibly the favorite out of my stories.) Thank you for being so patient! **

**Just think of me like J.K...although i could never hope to be as great as her.**

**Thank You's go to:**

**Lottie: Have now continued, and hopefully wont have any gaps that long again!**

**Dr Rubadinghy: hehe thanks my dear**

**Lady Apolla: Don't hit me! This is possibly my shortest chapter by far, but will get much better**

**Fippets: Thanks darlin'. Also me and Danni have a proposition for you...**

**HoshiHikari: Wait and see...it may be pivotal to the story! or maybe not...**

**Sliverspecter: Well done in the competition! And keep leaving gorgeous reviews like that one, I love to feel loved:)**

**Circe La Fay:I'm actually a woman. and taller than you. hehehe**

**Taurus 07: What has happened to your stories! You're as bad as i am...**

**Virginia Riddle-Malfoy: Firstly i must thank you for your incredible inspiration for The Darkest Riddle, hopefully a sequal will follow soon. And i want Voldemort to have a hideout somewhere different, i.e. not his house (too obvious) and not Romainia. Or Denmark. Or...Oh I have it! HAHA!**


	13. Revelations and Torture

Harry slammed onto a hard stone floor face first. He pushed himself up slowly, trying to clear his head. A cold laugh from behind him made him spin around and almost lose his balance once more.

"And so, you join me again. Welcome to my…aha…home.' said the soft, familiar voice.

"Mas…Voldemort.' Harry suppressed the word, but it was clear the Voldemort knew what he was on the verge of saying.

"Very good, very good."

Harry tore his eyes away from the snake-like face in front of him and snatched a look around. This was not where he had been brought to before. In fact, it reminded him of one of his few visits to Muggle London. The Dursleys had left Harry in Soho, no doubt hoping that someone would make off with him, while they took Dudley shopping. He had wandered the streets aimlessly before coming across the part of Soho known as China Town. The room which he now was in carried the same theme of decoration. He refused to listen to the part of his brain that was screaming his current location. The thought made him feel sick, and so he pushed it aside.

Voldemort smiled a cruel smile, as if he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. And of course he did, thanks to the parasite within Harry's mind.

"Welcome to China, Harry Potter."

Without quite knowing what was happening, Harry felt a strong surge of energy through his body. He grunted as the power left his body and travelled with lightning speed towards Voldemort. But the Dark Lord just waved his hand to the side and harmlessly deflected the wandless magic.

"I think," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye, "that you will need to be taught some respect."

* * *

Another cell. Harry felt this was getting old.

He had been dragged into this windowless room on the command of Voldemort, despite being ready for a blast of the Crucio spell, or something equally vile, but none had come. Only a curt command, followed by rough hands and winding corridors. And this cell. He had felt his way around in the blackness and guessed it was roughly one metre by two, barely enough for him to turn around in. He could lie down, but that was it.

Somewhere water was dripping erratically, one drop at a time. The noise echoed round the tiny chamber as Harry forced himself to calm down and think rationally.

"I must save my -_drip_- strength for whatever comes my -_drip-_ way. I can't -_drip_- give up. I've got out of these _-drip drip- _situations before." he tried to marshal himself, but the tiny voice in the back of his mind countermanded his thoughts.

_You let your friends take the brunt of the action for you. They were the ones who you let get hurt for your petty victories._

Harry tried to focus on other thoughts, but the sporadic dripping repeatedly distracted him, and he found himself waiting for the next small echoing noise. He could almost fool himself that they were evenly spaced, but in the back of his mind he knew that each drip took a slightly longer or shorter time to fall, giving a limping quality to the beat.

"If this continues I'm going to go mad." he said quietly to himself, trying to drown out the noise with his voice. It didn't work, he was still aware of the drips. He ripped the collar off the shirt he was wearing, and then managed to tear the strip of fabric in half with his teeth. The small task took his mind off the water. Ramming the wads of cloth into his ears, he lay down on the earthy floor of the cell. For a while he imagined he could still hear the drips, could almost feel the vibrations they made as they hit the floor. Then sleep crept up upon him, and he passed away into oblivion.

* * *

"Dumbledore and the Ministry have been alerted, Molly, there's nothing more we can do for the moment! Please try and calm down." Arthur Weasley looked in consternation at his nearly hysterical wife. She had been utterly incoherent when she initially Flooed him after Harry's disappearance, and she had not stopped crying with heaving sobs for the last hour.

"Don't tell me what to do! Oh! My poor boy, whatever will we do? How can we find him! I should have known that that letter wasn't from anyone we know!" She sank her head into her hands and almost howled. Arthur glanced in desperation towards Ginny, pale and drawn, and silently prayed that the young girl could help her mother.

"Um…mum?" she asked tentatively after correctly interpreting her father's look, "Mum, it's not your fault. Mum please, come upstairs and have some of that sleeping potion Dumbledore sent. I'm sure we'll know something by the time you wake up…"

Mrs. Weasley glared at her daughter, but allowed Ginny to take her hand and lead her upstairs. Arthur sank wearily down onto a chair.

"Where's Ron?" Fred and George burst into the kitchen, speaking at the same time.

"Dumbledore wants a word with him, about the letter" George added.

Mr. Weasley wordlessly gestured to the open garden door, through which Ron had slammed twenty minutes ago in sheer desperation. The twins looked at each other, and George set about making a pot of tea as Fred went into the garden to find his brother.

* * *

Ron was sitting by the hedge at the far end of the garden, holding the envelope that the letter had come in. He looked up as Fred approached, and began to speak as soon as his elder brother drew near enough to hear his quieted voice.

"I knew I'd seen this writing before. Harry had received a letter from You-Know-Who a few weeks before we broke up for Christmas. It was written in this exact same script. I _knew _I'd seen it before." Ron's voice trembled although his expression didn't waver. "If I had thought for a second, if I had just _thought_ instead of stupidly handing it over to him, I would have realised. I could have stopped him going, Fred!"

Fred awkwardly patted his brother's hand.

"We knew Harry would not be as well protected here as elsewhere. I don't think there was anything any of us could have done against You-Know-Who." he paused for a second to let this sink in. "Dumbledore's just Apparated here, he wants to speak with you."

Ron nodded miserably and followed Fred back into the house.

Dumbledore looked up from his tea as Ron slouched into the kitchen. Mr. Weasley caught the look from the Headmaster, and shepherded Fred and George out of the kitchen, absentmindedly patting Ron's head as he passed. The boy pulled out a chair and sat down as the old man stirred his tea with his wand. Ron stared at the table morosely for a few minutes, waiting for the Headmaster to speak. Finally Dumbledore cleared his throat and broke the silence.

"Who do you think the letter was from, Mr. Weasley?" Ron looked up, an expression of incredulity on his face. Could Dumbledore really not know? Noting the look on his face, Dumbledore continued. "Then what I thought might happen has come to pass. Very well."

"Do you know where he is, sir?" Ron expected nothing more than a negative answer to the question, and registered no surprise when he received one.

"But we have reason to assume that Voldemort is somewhere in the Far East. There has been much Dark activity on the border of China and Russia recently, or rather, one of Russia's many outlying states. Upon my advice, a squad of Aurors have been sent to China to see what they can find out. I can only hope they reach Harry in time."

Ron nodded despondently, acutely aware that there was little he could do to help his friend now. He scratched the table top for a minute before asking the question that was bothering him.

"Is Harry alive?"

"I cannot say Mr. Weasley, for I do not know." Dumbledore said gravely. "But we must not give up hope."

Ron sighed then nodded his head. It would be Christmas in a handful of days, but there would be no celebration this year if…if the worst happened.

"Well, goodbye Mr. Weasley. I shall be in touch with any further developments. If you can think of any way of contacting Harry however, please do so as soon as you can." Dumbledore slowly got up from the table and moved over to the fireplace. Blue flames shot from his wand and he stepped into their fluorescent depths. Ron turned and headed for the stairs before Dumbledore's figure had faded from the hearth, but he knew he had to speak to Hermione. There had to be some way of contacting Harry. Some little thing they had overlooked. Whatever it may be, Hermione would know.

* * *

**A/N: Exams are over! Woo! Now I can get on with what I love best…this story!**

**Thank you's**

**Kirbinite: I just had to put him in China. So many things I can do to him out there, and not just magic things either….**

**Tondo-the-half-elf: Good to see you back! Hope you continue to enjoy it! I love writing this, will be sad when it's over. (Not too sure when that will be, I have two alternative endings and havent decided which way I want it to go yet.)**

**Circe la Fay: written. Now you must do the same. I expect to see my story self up very soon.**

**Fippets: Same goes for you.**

**silly seal: thank you! Am updating as quickly as possible…**

**Queen Weasel: Well, I don't think any will get hurt in this story, but who can tell what Voldemort will do?**

**Dr Rubadinghy: hehe they shall all come to get you and carry you off to a mysterious film set in Royston valley where the inhabitants have both light sabres and wands….**


	14. Punishment and the Fall

The sound of dripping water haunted Harry's dreams, and gave him a strange feeling of uneasiness when he awoke on the cold earth floor. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and tried to discern from the faint grey light filtering under his door what time it was. The incessant noise made it hard to think. He turned over and flopped down again, ramming his fingers into his ears. The dripping continued.

"Is it in my head?" He asked aloud, not sure what he was hoping to do by voicing his thoughts, possibly to drown out the noise, possibly to gain an answer. When neither happened, he crawled forward to see if he could look under the bamboo panelled door and find the source of light. Certainly there seemed to be more light out there, although it seemed dirty, as if all the evilness from this place was encapsulated in the light. Harry scrambled to his feet as a pair of scuffed shoes obscured a portion of the light.

The door swung inwards and a masked Death Eater entered the room. This one didn't even speak, but put down a plate of burnt food on the floor next to a small glass of water. Harry restrained himself from falling on the food, and instead turned to the androgynous person in front of him.

"What time is it?" Harry could not stop his voice from sounding commanding.

"You wont get away with that tone of voice here, no matter what you think you can do at school." Harry felt a jolt go through him as he recognised the tone. Snape had just served him his meal, and was now standing in front of him making no attempt to help Harry. He gaped as Snape promptly turned on his heel and left the room, barring the door behind him. Was he merely maintaining his pretence? Or had he indeed broken his promise to Dumbledore?

Harry sat and ate his food without tasting a mouthful while he pondered these questions. It barely surprised him that Snape was there, after all, he was a spy for Dumbledore. But to be so cold hearted as to give him no information whatsoever? Could Snape have changed his colours once more? Or was he merely biding his time, and allowing Harry to suffer meanwhile, just as he had with Umbridge. But that had…awful consequences, so should he allow himself to trust the potions master this time? Harry's head reeled with his thoughts, and he decided to remain calm and keep a clear head. If he had to make an escape without Snape's help, well, so be it.

Harry looked up, half hopefully as the door opened once more, but the figure who entered was clearly several feet shorter than Snape, and wore a hooded robe which shadowed his face, rather than a mask.

"My Master requires you in the bamboo room." Harry recognised the laugh that followed this statement. This was McNair, former Ministry executioner, now Voldemort's minion, no doubt his chief torturer. He allowed himself to be led out into the dimly lit corridor outside his room, and Harry now saw where the light was coming from. High up in the wall, some distance along from his own cell, was a small grubby window that shafts of dirty sunlight were filtering through. Although Harry could not see any feasible way of reaching this window, he memorised its position. If he managed to escape it could possibly come in useful.

Harry did not have a chance to look for long. McNair grabbed his collar and manhandled him down the corridor, despite the fact that Harry was happy to go willingly. The man obviously liked violence, and was willing to use it in any circumstance.

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

Ron started his letter, but was unsure of what to say next. She was obviously aware of Harry's disappearance, having been notified almost immediately, she had been shocked that something had occurred so soon after they had left each other at Kings Cross, but he didn't want to reveal any information about the dispatched Aurors or Harry's assumed location, just in case the owl got intercepted. For the same reason he didn't want to disclose the aim of this letter, how to contact Harry. He heaved a sigh and continued.

_You know for DA, and how we got everyone to assemble in the same place? That was great wasn't it? If only we had the same type of communication this year, for absent friends as it were. Did we have any other ways? I can't remember now, but let me know if you do. _

_Hope you're holding up, things are ok here, although Mum is still upset. Missing Harry, wish I could do something._

_Love, _

Here Ron stopped. He looked at the word for a few minutes before crossing it out copiously with his quill. He looked at the crossed out word a few moments more, before seeming to change his mind.

_Love,_

_Ron_

Before he could make any more changes he rolled up the parchment, hoping that Hermione would get the implications of all his hidden messages in the note, and attached it to Hedwig's leg. She was agitated about the loss of her master, and he had to tell her several times to go to Hermione's house and come straight back before she gave her usual hoot that showed she understood the instructions. He watched the white bird fly away and thought sadly how she always had an unerring habit of finding Harry. A thought was trying to gain his attention, but every time he tried to grasp it, it elusively slipped away. He sighed and turned away from the window and flopped down on his bed. How was the trio going to survive this one?

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed when he entered the chamber was the lack of bamboo in this room. Whereas the rest of this place had bamboo cladding on the doors and walls, this room was completely bare, save for a red silk tapestry on one of the walls and a table with a few chairs in the middle of the room. Harry was instantly on guard.

Voldemort stepped forward from the shadows of the room, and motioned to one of the chairs.

"Please sit down, Harry." Harry was shocked, the tone sounded almost congenial, but he shook his head and quickly decided he had been mistaken. He was pushed roughly to the chair that had been indicated, and he sat down as Voldemort turned to McNair and held up his hand.

"That's enough. We don't want to injure our guest. Yet." McNair sniggered and Harry's blood ran cold. What was going to be done to him now?

Voldemort flicked his wand towards Harry, and cords snaked out of the chair and bound him to it. Metal clasps shot from the table, pinning his hands to the surface, and despite his struggles, he knew that there was no way he could wriggle out of these. Voldemort stared coldly at the boy until he stopped. Then with another wave of his wand, slivers of bamboo appeared on the table, and shot under Harry's fingernails. He screamed in pain, worse than any he had known, even that from his scar, and writhed in a desperate attempt to break free. Before he could stop himself, he was begging for mercy, promising respect, silence, anything, anything, if only Voldemort removed the pain. Only then did the Dark wizard's features twist into a smile.

"You know what will stop the pain, Harry." he said in his cold, high voice. And strangely enough, Harry _did_ know exactly what would stop the pain.

"Master!" he gasped, "Master, please…"

* * *

**A/N: Please don't kill me.**

**I have finally decided the ending of this story, after much debate (I had two endings.) However, it is still subject to change, so we shall see. But the important thing is…the end is in sight! Maybe two or three more chapters to go. If you want anything wrapped up (other than the Harry/Voldemort plot) please let me know by emailing me, and I'll try and work it in, as I know there are some leads that I haven't followed. If I cant work it in I'll….think of something. **

**Thank you's**

**Hoshi Hikari: Yeah, it's pretty intrinsic to the story because of the torture and stuff, and also I think the wizarding world's relations with China are pretty much the same as the Muggle world, e.g. China is very precious about airspace etc. so in the wizarding world it would be harder to track someone there.**

**Taurus 07: Great to have you reviewing again! I know what you mean about Voldy, but if you need any help/betaing send me the drafts and ill see what I can do!**

**Honeynut Loop: thank you! I love new readersJ**

**Circe la Fay: its gotta be dark dahling, we cant all be brilliant comedic (hey that's like medic!) writers like you!**

**Dr Rubadinghy: here's another one for you to praise endlesslyJ**

**Fippets: Go to bed! Earlier! And thank you my dear.**

**JM xxx**


	15. The Escape

Voldemort swept into a small, dimly lit chamber. His obvious anger crackled through the room like static electricity. Death Eaters glanced sideways at each other from their hurriedly assumed kneeling positions. Voldemort had the boy, his nemesis, totally under his control. He was free to do whatever he now wished, so where had this black mood come from? Anton Dolohov dared to raise his head and look up at his master.

"My Lord, if I may…"

"Silence!" the man was interrupted mid-sentence as Voldemort whirled around to face him. "You may not! You dare to address me without permission?"

The assembled Death Eaters didn't bother to hide their looks at this. Voldemort had never used his power in this way before. He never demanded absolute silence, absolute submission. Absolute obedience? Yes. Absolute respect? Yes. But not this, never this. Dolohov cowered in front of the thin man who radiated a power so great that none dared argue but the most foolish. Wormtail shuffled to a half crouching position.

"M…Master! The Boy. Is something…"

"Everything is wrong." Voldemort cut the quivering man's question short once more. "He calls me master, but there is nothing there but a dull terror. There is no love, there is no respect, solely fear. Only when he truly accepts me as a master will he be broken, and only then will I allow him to die."

There was an uneasy murmur that was silenced abruptly as Dolohov rose once more.

"My Lord, enough with this muggle torture. Physical pain can be tolerated after enough exposure. Turn to the magical and metal pain, that can never be avoided. And you are already well positioned to invade his mind." Dolohov spoke softly, but every word was heard. The Dark Lord stood, silent, thinking over what his most trusted right hand man had told him. He nodded abruptly and his followers visibly sank in relief and he stalked back out of the chamber.

* * *

Harry gasped as he slowly eased one of the bamboo splinters out from under his fingernail. He hadn't meant to bend so easily. In past battles he hadn't folded no matter how much pressure was put on him. Couldn't he fight off the _Imperius_ curse without any help? And he hadn't meant it anyway. He'd have said anything to get rid of the pain. 

He shook his head slowly as he pulled out the last of the splinters. His head was a mess, he couldn't tell his own thoughts from those of the…thing's. It had been easier in the beginning. But now they were beginning to mix. He almost believed himself when he said he hadn't meant it. Almost. He rubbed his hair with his now freely bleeding hand absently, leaving a smear of blood across his face. This time, he knew, he could not face Voldemort alone. He was too weak, too unprepared. He had to escape and find help. He knew that if he were caught, he wouldn't have a hope in hell, but there was the chance that he wouldn't be, and at the moment, that was the biggest chance he was going to get.

He moved towards the door. If he put his ear against the hollow wood, he found he could hear the pattering fall of rain. A slight breeze stirred a tuft of his hair.

'So they leave the window open. Good.' he murmured to himself.

Harry ran his hands swiftly over the door, feeling for any irregularity that could indicate a weak spot. Nothing. He felt methodically around the edges for hinges, vaguely remembering a Muggle film in which a cell door had been lifted off a simple hinge. Again, nothing. He stepped back slightly and stared hard at the door, thinking hard about what he should now do. Harry let his focus go, the door becoming blurry, and only then did he notice the thin golden lines hovering slightly off the surface of the door.

'Magic.' he whispered in awe. And then mentally slapped himself. What was he expecting? Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Wizard in centuries casually keeping his prisoners, some of far greater power than Harry, in cells closed only with a hollow bamboo door? Harry restrained himself from hitting the door in frustration, aware that violence could activate the magic locks and possibly lead to something disastrous.

'Think. Think!' he stared at the door, willing it to swing open as he wracked his brains for anything that could possibly be of help. And then it happened. He mentally tried to push the door, and to his surprise he felt, rather than saw, the magic give way a little. Not caring to think how he could achieve even this minute step, he summoned all his magic and pushed again at the door with his mind. There! Again! A crack was beginning to appear between the stone walls and the door. He pushed once more, and the door shifted again. A gap of about a hands width spurred him on, and he steadied himself to prepare for the final push. A thought floated into his brain.

_Use the power._

Harry knew what to do. Using the same technique that Dumbledore had shown him for Leglimens, he focused it inwards, and found the pulsating grey slug, the combination of Voldemort's and Harry's power. Grasping it with invisible hands, he tugged a rope of power from its centre and wound it around his magic in a coil. Focusing once more on the door, he mentally hurled himself at it, using every last bit of his strength, and was rewarded as the door burst open.

Desperately needing a rest, but knowing he could not afford the time he slipped into the corridor and crossed to the half open window. If he held his breath, he could just climb through. Once again he thanked the lack of feeding from the Dursleys for his lithe figure. He put his hands on the sill and simultaneously jumped and pushed downwards with his arms, pushing his head and shoulders outside. He could not prevent himself from looking down, at the damp earth twelve feet below. Harry paused, it was pointless pushing himself through to plunge to his death. He would have to do this carefully. Tucking his chin into his chest, he gave a final heave, and felt himself come through the window and begin to fall. He twisted in the air, and when he finally his the ground, hit it with his shoulder, turning the fall into a roll.

'Just like gym.' Harry said, standing shakily. He hadn't practised that roll in six years, the last time being in the controlled environment of his junior school gym, from a height of a little under four foot. He looked up at the high window and suppressed a shudder, before turning and running off towards the distant dark green of what he assumed was a forest.

* * *

'After him.' And the room was full of popping as Voldemort's Death Eaters left at their master's command.

* * *

**A/N: Woo chapter! There will be roughly two more of about this length, possibly longer, before the story is complete. And thank you guys for all the support, this is my first (semi) canon fic, and is definately the hardest to write what with the plot and trying to keep the characters in..uh...character. **

**As always, comments/advice muchly welcome!**

**Thank yous:**

**Buried fire: Glad you love it, its for people like you that I write!**

**Kelly: Am I imagining it or have you reviewed before? Hope this explains your question, and I admit, I just love being mean to Harry...**

**Artemis Moonclaw: Thank you! -big grin- have a cookie**

**Circe la Fay: Hehe pandas...maybe i should include them... "Harry walks into the panda room. lots of pandas maul him. the end.' Or maybe not. Also the macerena is SO going in our spoof.**

**Taurus 07: Hm yes sequel...well, lets wait till this one is finished eh?**

**Lord Localfreak: Yes, I did lots of research...hehe**

**Kybo: Thanks.**

**Fippets: You're crazy. But I love you. And why aren't you writing? Personal Statement is a rubbish excuse...**

**Rosiegirl: Guesses to my email only! **

**Honey Nut Loop: Great to see you again...and thank you!**

**acr: Am continuing...**

**ManicReversed: I have to say, I do, which is only slightly worrying... Ah I love Voldy, in a 'Wow you are hideous, evil and very very mean' kinda way.**

**Caroline: Thank you! As you couldnt wait...I'll dedicate this chapter to you!**


	16. Prophecy Fulfilled

Ron was in the kitchen of The Burrow, attempting to make spaghetti for dinner when a smallish, fat owl smacked into the back of his head. He wiped the spilled sauce from his eyes, and made a grab for the dazed bird, tearing the letter off it's leg. He recognised it as Hermione's bird, although had never known it to be so dopey.

Ron ripped open the letter he had just received.

_Dear Ron, _

_Sorry for the tap my owl gave your head, it was necessary. Hope your wand is in good working order, you may need to use it on something very soon. don't burn this letter, and don't show it to anyone either._

Ron looked in puzzlement at the second part of the letter.

_Just say it: even my eyes rove over grace._

_1/4 8 15 27 33 34 35 _

_2/2_

_2/41 51 61 71 91 81_

_Logic is as logic does; think like me._

_Love, Hermione._

Ron re-read the letter once more. This didn't sound like Hermione, despite the fact that it was.

And then he remembered something in third year, when Hermione had taken Muggle Studies. She had insisted that Harry and Ron help her to memorise codes, a muggle way of communicating with each other without being understood, and one of them had used numbers to indicate which word to decipher.

He grabbed a quill out of a drawer and a scrap of parchment and looked at the letter once more.

'One, four…first paragraph, fourth word…tap.' he muttered to himself as he scribbled the word down. A message began to appear.

_Tap your wand on this letter and say_

But this was where Ron lost it. There was no 41st word in the second paragraph, or 61st, or 81st. He stared at the parchment, willing another clue to emerge…

'_Emergo_.' he breathed. 'Fourth word, first letter, fifth word, first letter, sixth word, first letter, seventh word, first letter, ninth word, first letter, eighth word, first letter. E-M-E-R-G-O.'

Ron pulled out his wand and tapped the letter, muttering '_Emergo_' as he did so. The words on the page disappeared to be replaced with a new message, once again in Hermione's flowing script.

_Dear Ron, _

_Well done! I really hope it didn't take you too long to work out, and that there is still time to contact Harry. I have been doing lots of reading, I managed to find one or two books in a little shop off Diagon Alley about contacting people through their wands. If Harry still has his, which is doubtful, it can be done, but there is always the chance that You-Know-Who has his wand and will get our message instead. But you know a wand is connected to its owner? Well, there's a spell that can be performed by two people close to the person which is directed to the connected part within the person we are trying to reach, namely, Harry. We wouldn't be able to directly contact him, but we would be able to see that he's alright, alive. _

_My parents are allowing me to come to yours tomorrow if that's possible, send me a note if it's not. Keep safe till then,_

_Love, _

_Hermione_

He heaved a sigh of relief. There was something they could do, and they would do it together. Ron wrinkled his nose as a smell of burning pervaded the air. He spun around to the stove where the spaghetti sauce was bubbling over the side of the pan. Dinner would have to wait.

* * *

Harry's heart sank as he heard the familiar 'pop' of apparating wizards, but continued to run for the line of trees, now only a handful of metres in front of him. He felt the cool fingers of the shadows gently touch him as a hand fell heavily onto his shoulder. He was pulled up short and spun round, kicking out as he did so, without thinking. Harry received a satisfying 'Oof!' for his efforts, before other Death Eaters surrounded him, and he realised that there was now no escape. With no wand, there was nothing he could do to defend himself against the twelve binding curses that flew at him from different directions. He didn't even have time to draw on his new found power. He slumped to the ground as hope left him. Someone muttered a spell and he felt a rush of air followed by a thud as he was banished back to the small confines of his cell. He landed on his back, and lay there, winded, his mind a complete blank. There was nothing left for him now. Voldemort knew, thanks to this thing in his head, his every thought. Even with outside help, he couldn't rid himself of this thing, Dumbledore hadn't even been able to manage it. He heaved a small sigh of resignation and let his thoughts drift away.

Some hours later, Harry was still staring at the ceiling, when a solid thought drifted into his empty mind.

_Come to me._

Barely conscious of his movements, Harry pushed himself onto his feet and stopped in front of the door. He registered no surprise when it swung open of its own accord; how could he? Voldemort could do anything, was all powerful, who was he to question what the Dark Lord did.

A tiny part of Harry's subconscious was desperately fighting against the strong, lethargic mist swirling through Harry's mind, making him hesitate on the threshold.. A tiny part of himself knew that he should resist, but it was so much easier to stop resisting. So much easier to give in to the Dark Lord's wishes, and so Harry set off down the corridor, to where his master awaited him.

* * *

'Ron!' And the lanky boy was enveloped in a bone crunching hug by his best friend as he opened the front door. Hermione quickly let go and pushed past him into the house. She paused as she reached the kitchen and turned back to face him.

'Where can we go to be alone?' she asked, ignoring Ron's gulp at her words. He quickly recovered and motioned to the door behind her.

'Through there to the garden shed.' He said shortly. 'I cleared it out last night so there should be enough space for us, or we can do it in the garden if you prefer.' He wrenched his mind away from the double entendres that his mouth seemed to be creating without the apparent intervention of his brain. Hermione rolled her eyes and marched through to the garden to examine their working space.

'Of course,' she said over he shoulder as they left the house, 'It's a very complex spell that can't afford to go wrong. And it's never been attempted by only two people over such a large distance. If, as Dumbledore says, Harry _is_ in China, it will take all of our strength and power.' Hermione stopped and looked back at Ron, as if she were fighting an internal battle. Her doubt seemed to win. 'Your wand _does _work properly doesn't't it?'

'Yes, Hermione.' Ron muttered exasperatedly as he held the door open for her.

* * *

Harry bowed before Voldemort could reprimand him for not paying respect.

'I see you are learning, slowly.' the Dark Lord snarled.

Voldemort held the key to Harry's life and freedom, he would do anything for him, including grovelling at his feet. Harry straightened up and cowered as he finally looked into his nemesis' glowing eyes. Never had he seen so much anger.

'I will not have my captives disobeying orders.' he hissed, every word clear and ringing. 'I will not have you treating this as a petty muggle'-he spat the word-'prison. And now you must be punished.' He raised a wand, and Harry knelt to take his deserved punishment, realising with a jolt that it was his own wand that Voldemort was pointing at him. There was a silence as Harry braced himself for the curse that he felt sure was to come his way, but none came. He looked up into the face of his master, bewildered. Why was his lord mocking him so? Why would he not give him the pain that he knew should come to him? But Voldemort lowered the wand, and stared Harry straight in the eyes, red on green. Suddenly the Dark Lord was in his head, they were one, powers combined, not painful, unlike last summer, when they had last combined, but elating. Part of Harry was repulsed, still shrunk from Voldemort's presence, but they rest of him was overjoyed. He allowed these emotions to bubble up to the surface, so that his master could see how happy he was, what he was feeling…

But that tiny, resilient part of Harry was dragged to the surface instead, by Voldemort's probing gaze. He suddenly withdrew, leaving Harry feeling weak and powerless, but aware that his master was happy.

'I am so glad that there is a morsel of you that does not give in so easily. After all, you would be blindly following if you turned completely. This way it is a choice, what is right, or what is easy. And you will find after a time of choosing easy, the lines between them will blur.' Voldemort's thin mouth curved into a smile. 'And now I can kill you.'

* * *

Ron stared at Hermione puzzled. 'What do you mean there isn't a spell?'

Hermione tutted impatiently. 'How many times do I have to tell you, Ron? There is no verbal spell. It all comes from within. Concentrate on Harry's face, and then concentrate on finding him. In China. Hold his face in your mind, and touch your wand into this circle on the floor when I give the signal, a nod of my head,' she quickly added as Ron opened his mouth to interrupt. 'Then a picture of Harry should appear to both of us, if we both do this correctly.' She finished with a stern glare at Ron, as if daring him to protest. He merely nodded and rolled up the sleeves of his jumper.

'Okay,' He said, raising his wand. Hermione flashed him a smile before her eyes lost focus. He felt his own doing the same as he concentrated hard on his friend, remembering every detail of Harry's face, the pale silver of his scar, the untidy hair, his eyes. He held the image in his mind as Hermione nodded to him, and they placed the tips of their wands in the centre of the small chalk circle drawn on the wooden floor of the shed. Ron felt the magic radiating from Hermione, and forced every ounce of his own power right into the tip of his wand. A hazy image began to form in front of his eyes, growing clearer the more energy he put in.

* * *

A tiny thought pushed at Harry's subconscious. He smiled joyfully up at Voldemort's cold face.

'Let me do it, master. Let me die for you, kill myself for you, as my mother did for me. It will complete the circle, my Lord. Let me, as my last offering for you.'

Voldemort searched Harry's face, and then his thoughts, sharply, but could find only honesty, and this absolute want. The boy was hiding nothing. Well, the Dark Lord thought to himself, it would be a fitting ending. The Boy Who Lived, killing himself for his new master. A chuckled escaped from his thin lips.

'Very well.' he said, handing Harry back his wand. 'Do it. Now.'

* * *

Ron watched as the tiny Harry was given something by a shadowy figure.

'Voldemort.' Hermione breathed in a barely audible whisper.

They watched as Harry raised the object above his head. Hisminute features were smiling.

* * *

'Goodbye, my master.' Said Harry softly. His wand was directly above his scar, and he felt a final wave of power surge through him as he uttered the words that killed his parents. '_Avada Kedavra_.'

Voldemort only remembered the prophecy as the green light sped towards Harry's forehead. Only then remembered their connection. His shriek of rage and fear was cut short as the light hit Harry.

* * *

Ron and Hermione watched in horror as the two figures crumpled to the ground, before the image winked out. Their gazes remained fixed to the now empty air for a fraction of a second, before their heads slowly turned to look at each other, knowing the expression in front of them to be an exact mirror image of their own.

'Get Dumbledore.' they whispered at the same time, before scrambling up and out of the door, leaving their wands where they had fallen as the image of the body of Harry and the body of Voldemort had disappeared.

* * *

**A/N: Don't hurt me, just review (And due to the hits thing now up, i can see how many people have read, and how few have reviewed...:( unless one person is just reading again and again...). And this was intended all along, rather than a knee jerk reaction to HBP(which is fantastic by the way).**

**Well folks, only one more chapter left, and then this fic can be wrapped up and put to bed with a nice hot toddy, have its prayers listened to, and then leave it to sleep. **

**Thank yous:**

**savannah142**: **Well I wouldnt say he was evil as per say...just...hopeless?**

**Honey Nut Loop**: **Supressing? Hehe well I'm glad it has it's uses!**

**Taurus 07: Send me any ideas/material you have and I will become your unofficial beta...if you want...**

**Dr Rubadinghy: Here is your mention oh gracious one. And he's no longer a weepy annoying loser is he? Ah reading it on the train...and theres quite enough of Ron in this chapter to keep you happy I hope!**

**Kelly: Ah so I do remember you!Thanks!**

**Caroline: Well here y'are.**

**Buried fire: Thank you! Well the Dark Mark was merely his own little...joke against Harry until he got that slug thing (I have to stop calling it that) into his mind. But anyway, enjoy!**

**Christina: Thanks!**

**Fippets: That was an impressive poem. I shall love and cherish it forever, just like you. Now you have lots of spare time. Go write.**

**Circe la Fay : what, you think I'm just going to stop? I'm a review addict, and to get reviews, I need to write more. oh you lucky things you!**

**Oh and on that note, my next project(s) will be regulus' last days as a Death Eater before he leaves them, and then the last three days of his life, and the sequel to The Darkest Riddle, which may or may not involve Merope and Tom.**

**Cheers m'dears! xxxx**


	17. Epilogue

'He's dead. He's really…' Ron choked back the word in disbelief as he looked down at his friend's body. Dumbledore nodded gravely, grief clouding his lined face.

'He died so others could live, or so I would like to think. I believe the heady power Voldemort felt as Harry gave in to his demands blinded him from the morsel of free will left in Harry's soul.'

Ron looked bemused. 'I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand. What did Harry give in to?'

Hermione straightened from her kneeling position beside the body and looked askance at Dumbledore.

'If you knew what was happening, why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you get here sooner.' A slight tremble in her voice betrayed her anger at the old wizard.

But Dumbledore only sighed and shook his head sadly. He gestured to the two young people to follow him as he led the way out of the main chamber, into which they had portkeyed, and down a short corridor, stopping before a door guarded by two dark clothed Aurors. With a nod they stepped aside, and the door swung open. Dumbledore paused on the threshold.

'Inside are the remnants of the band once known as the Death Eaters. The rest have all either fled or committed a mass suicide by leaping into a pit of sharpened bamboo stakes, a premeditated preparation for such circumstances as this one, I imagine. These men told us what we needed to know to understand the final moments of Harry's life. They will be brought to trial before the Wizengamot, and I don't doubt, unfortunate as it may be, that the death penalty will be reinstated once again.' Dumbledore motioned the pair forward into the gloom, and their eyes fell upon the huddle of six people or so in the corner of the room.

The men cowered away from Ron and Hermione, obviously sick with fear. Ron turned away in revulsion, and made for the comparatively bright light of the corridor, stopping in front of Dumbledore.

'You still have not answered my question, sir. What did Harry give in to? What were they making him do?'

Dumbledore waited for Hermione to join them before speaking once more.

'Voldemort wanted his absolute love before he made Harry kill himself. I'm sure he felt it would be an ironic twist. Unfortunately he disallowed himself from remembering the intense tie between them from the spell cast seventeen years ago; the one that reduced Voldemort into little more than a shadow. He also managed to forget that he had strengthened this tie by planting a part of his magic inside Harry's mind.'

Ron shifted uneasily. Harry had known that it would come to this. Damn it, _he_ had known, and did nothing to prevent it. Dumbledore gazed at Ron's face sadly.

'In the end, it was all that anyone could do. There was no other way, by no other means would he have died.' The old wizard stepped back from the fragile looking couple. 'Remember the dead, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, remember them. They live among us as long as their memories prevail.' He left them at the door to the prisoners' cell.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

'We-'

'I-'

They paused, blushing.

'You first.' said Ron.

'I was going to say, we must live our lives to the fullest, and to the longest. And make sure no one forgets him.'

Ron chuckled. 'Snap. I was going to say exactly the same.'

They looked about them, each avoiding the other's eyes in sudden shyness. Hermione took a deep breath, remembering her words of a second before, reached out, and took Ron's hand in her own.

'Let's go back. Together. People need to know, and we can tell them. Together.' And she fixed him with her steadiest gaze.

Ron nodded slowly. Harry had died so that thousands of people could live, so that they could live. He pulled her closer to his body, there was no use protesting against it any longer.

* * *

Dumbledore watched the young pair from the shadows. There was a little more love in the world, the strongest magic of all.

* * *

**--End--

* * *

**

**A/N: Blegh sorry for the horrendously soppy ending, but it just would not leave me alone until I got it down, so I guess its meant to be. Also sorry for the horrendously long wait for this to go up… I went to Thailand for two weeks and procrastinated a bit once I got back.**

**Well, that's it folks. Its finished. But I have got another fic on the way, the sequel to The Darkest Riddle so watch this space (and go read TDR).**

**Thank yous (last lot sob)**

**Kelly: Here you go Miss Loyal! Thanks!**

**Kybo: Well, he didn't know exactly, but I think he was aware towards the end. Thanks!**

**Taurus07: Sorry! I know! But it had to happen! Honestly there was no other way. Glad you liked it. There will be more coming your way soon I promise. **

**Caroline: thanks!**

**inuyashaswench: Thank you! Hope you didn't go too mad from waiting…..**

**Circe la Fay: indeed, do so. Mwahahahaha. And yes, he is really dead.**

**Sesshoumaru is my fluffy****: thank you!**

**Lukeferris: yup, here's the 'more to come'.**

**Rosiegirl: thank you!**

**Honey Nut Loop: in the code Hermione specifies to change the last two letters round. Glad you read so carefully…thank you all the same!**

**Julie Long: uh thanks (I think!)**

**Savannah142: not evil no. just been tortured beyond belief and is seriously messed up. And dead.**


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